


Supernatural Family

by kiiriminna



Series: Supernatural Family [3]
Category: Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman, Norse Religion & Lore, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 87,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiiriminna/pseuds/kiiriminna
Summary: Continuation for The Unholy Family and Angelic Family. Fergus is now more or less cured, but what will this mean to his relationship with Bobby? Oh yeah, and something should probably be done to Abaddon, too.





	1. Old Blames, Older Pains

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter done! ... Just won't expect that they'll all be this long.

_He's drowning; falling deep, deep under the murky, bottomless pit._

_MURDERER, voice whispers in his ear, DECEIVER._

" _Stop it!" he commands, but he has no power there and so the voice doesn't stop._

_There's also faces, ghostlike and swelling like a mist. Some of them are familiar, he has seen those when looking at the mirror. Their face are angry, and so are their voices._

You stole our lives! _they accuse him, those who once served as his vessels._

" _I had no choice!" he pleads, but they pay him no heed as they continue haunting him._

 _Rest of the faces aren't as familiar, but they're multiple; dozens, maybe hundreds of anguished souls, all reaching out for him, calling,_ You deceived us! You promised so much, and see what has come of us? You sent your hounds after us, you dragged us in the racks! _Memories of his past customers, men, women, even children, reaching out their hands, pleading for release from the rusty, bloody chains around their wrists, ankles, necks…_

" _You made that by yourself! Nothing's free, you know that you would need to pay it back at one point!"_

You played with our hopes and dreams, used our misfortunes for your own gain!

" _I only did what was necessary for me to survive!" he replied weakly._

_DID YOU? DID YOU REALLY? WERE THERE EVER NO ENJOYMENT IN IT FOR YOU… HOW YOU PLAYED THOSE POOR FOOLS TO FOLLOW YOUR WHIMS?_

_He wants to deny that, but words wont come out; he's lies are useless here. "I-I…"_

_DID YOU NOT LAUGH AT THEIR MISERY? DID YOU NEVER VISIT THEM LATER, DOWN IN HELL, JUST TO BRAG, FLAUNT THEIR FOOLISHNESS AT THEM?_

" _Shut up! Please, shut up!"_

Give us back our lives! _demand his past vessels._

You doomed us! _accused those who sold their souls to him._

" _It's not my fault! You had your chances; it's not my fault!"_

_YOU HAD YOUR OWN CHANCES, TOO, the first voice reminds him. IT WAS YOUR CHOICE THAT CONDEMNED THEM ALL._

" _Chance?!" he cries out. "I never had any chances to the begin with…"_

_REALLY?_

" _My mother abandoned me! I had no-one to rely on! I learned to take care of myself, since that was only way to survive!"_

_This time, no-one answered._

" _It was the only way…"_

* * *

"Anthony and Aziraphale are coming", Castiel said as he walked back to the library where Winchesters had waited him. "They should be here any moment now."

"Yeah; Bobby's on his way, too", Dean grumbled.

Castiel frowned. "I wasn't aware that you were planning to contact him."

"Neither was I!"

"Bobby called us", Sam told him. "Apparently… Well, it seemed like Crowley left his Hellhounds to live with him, and they went restless at the same time when Crowley lost his consciousness."

Castiel nodded. "The bond between Hellhound and it's owner can be strong."

"AND then there's a Hellhound coming running over here, and Bobby told us to let  _her_  in", Dean continued.

"Ah." After seeing dark look on Dean's face, Castiel asked, "Is there problem with that?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Only that there is a  _Hellhound_  coming over  _here_  and it probably won't be happy considering that it's owner was under our care once he… well, was  _un-demonized_ , I suppose."

"I'm sure that Juliet wouldn't –" Castiel started, but was interrupted by an urgent knocking coming from bunker's front doors. "…That must be his father", the angel said, and went to open the door, not being any heed of Dean and Sam who rushed after him, asking him to make sure who it was before letting anybody in.

Castiel let the door swung open and Anthony stormed in, Aziraphale on his heels. "Where is he?" the demon demanded with wide, panicked eyes, "Where is my son? Has he woken yet?" He didn't seem to even notice the soothing hand that Aziraphale had placed over his shoulder.

Castiel shook his head. "Still unconscious; I'll take you to his room."

Sam coughed. "We'll bring you chairs; I mean, if you would like to sit with him…"

Aziraphale turned to give him a tired smile. "Thank you, dear", he said, before following Castiel and the anxious demon in the bunker.

Dean shook his head, bemusedly. "I still don't understand what it is in Crowley that makes them care for him so much, but damn, with people like that in his corner, he really should get better soon."

Sam nodded. "I agree. Now, let's go get those chairs…"

* * *

_What were his first memories? Scent of milk, gentle touch of a muzzle, moist tongue licking his cheek…?_

_Rowena wasn't devoted mother. She didn't care to nurse her own baby, and since she had no money to hire a wet-nurse for him, she decided that an animal would do the same as human, for cheaper and, most important thing, without gossiping. So she bought a dog, a bitch with a litter of four on its own, and laid her son beside them. The dam accepted him as if he was one of its puppies, and it gave him all the care and love that Rowena either didn't want or was unable to offer._

_Maybe it could count on her favor that she at least didn't abandon him or left him die on malnourishment, though her later actions often made him think why had she made even that much effort in the first place._

_As soon as he was old enough to eat solid food, the dam had to go. That was first time he broke his heart, and he spent many nights awake in his bed, crying for fear and loneliness while missing the first mother he'd ever known._

_Rowena started first time to pay attention for him when he was old enough to walk, talk and help her in daily works. After seeing that her son was unusually bright for his age, she started to teach him witchcraft, hoping to train him into her assistant. He was a fast learner, and driven by the need to please his mother, in hopes that she would then start to love him as he craved to be loved._

_He understood pretty early that Rowena didn't much care about other witches; she made her thoughts about them clear, calling them "old-fashioned" and "unable to realize true vision and skill". What he didn't know before it was too let was that Rowena herself wasn't exactly liked among other witches, either._

_To this day, he still had no clear knowledge of what it was that finally turned the rest of witch community against Rowena, but he had little to no doubt that at least part of it was to do with who his father was (even though Rowena had repeatedly told him that she'd no clue who he were, she'd also revealed that he was not a practitioner of witchcraft). The consequences on the other hand were all too familiar to him: Rowena decided to flee, and she also came to the result that dragging eight-years old boy behind her would slow her down too much for her liking._

_First she tried to sell him, but since no-one was interested to take witch-child on their burden, finally she just left him. He was old enough to know that following her or pleading her to change her mind would make him no good; Rowena had washed her hands. He was now all alone in the world._

* * *

The bunker was silent; the angels (two real deals and one fallen) were staying at Crowley's room, and the Winchesters tried to be cool with the fact that they now felt themselves outsiders in their own home.

Loud barking noises raised them on their feet; something was jumping against their door, in clear purpose to come in, trough the door if not any any other way.

"Do you think…?" Sam whispered.

"The hellhound", Dean admitted.

Now what should they do? Bobby had asked (told) them to let the thing –  _Juliet_  – in, but to actually open the door to a Hellhound…?

"It could maim us", Dean worded out what they both were thinking.

"Ah, so Juliet has arrived!" said cheerful voice, and Aziraphale stepped past them, walking towards the front door.

"Wait!" Sam cried, and Dean tried to catch angel's arm, but somehow he missed. Aziraphale stopped in front of the door, talking through it, "Calm down, dear! Good girl. I'm opening the door now, stay put."

As soon as the door was open, they could all hear pitiful whining that sounded so much like a scared puppy that Dean actually lowered the gun he had pointed towards the door once realized that Aziraphale wasn't going to stop, and Sam's fingers twitched like he'd wanted to go and scratch the poor animal like the angel seemed to be doing.

"You poor dear… Now follow me. A-hah! No running."

The Winchesters moved quickly aside and let Aziraphale and the Hellhound walk past them. They couldn't see the creature, put they smelled something that reminded wet dog odor with sulfur mixed into it, and heard its nails clipping against the floor. They could also see its collar, and considering of how high in the air it was hanging, the thing was at least a size of a pony.

"Holy shit…" Dean muttered. "And Bobby has been living with two of these? Must have been comfy…"

"Speaking of Bobby… maybe we should call him and inform that… Juliet… has safely arrived here?"

"Yeah, that would be sensible… I mean, he lost Crowley's dog, he must be worried of what happens to him if the guy wakes up and the thing isn't all fine and dandy."

It was left unsaid that Bobby had actually seemed to care about the Hellhound of its own sake; it was little too bizarre for them to think about right now.

* * *

_After Rowena left, he had no many options: he needed to find job, and fast, since even though the summer had just began, the autumn would eventually arrive and he has no place to live. Rowena had sold their house, and everything else that she could, to earn some money for her escape, and now all he owned was the clothes he wore._

_He was persistent, and managed finally get himself a job from a local cattle farm. He wasn't paid, not with money, but at least he was allowed to have one warm meal per day and could sleep in the shed. Workdays were long and hard, and it wasn't always safe, either: pasture was far from any settlement, and the men there lonely and without any diversion. And for a boy, he was pretty and plump… Let's just say that after few close calls he learned to keep his distance and started to spent his night among the cattle. One cow particularly seemed to have a soft spot towards him, and let him sleep against its side, safe and warm._

_The autumn came, cattle was returned to the farm and most of it them sent ahead to the market. He was among the men accompanying the farmer, and got a change to prove him that he was rather fluent both in arithmetic's and accounting, which raised his status in the farmer's eyes. After that, he was allowed to stay the farm, and he was even paid – he didn't earn much, less than anyone else, actually, as was expected since he was so young and had no family looking after him. Still he didn't complain; he was already having a plan how to get most out of his small salary._

_He spared every coin he earned, and after few years, he had enough money to buy enough fabric to make himself a suit, like those he'd seen rich men using in a market. Of course, their clothes had been made from much better textiles, but he had learned from Rowena that when you looked neat, people were more inclined to believe that you were efficient and decent person._

_And was that true: next Sunday he went to the church – as he did every week, no matter how silly he thought it all was – and for the first time, people seemed to actually pay attention to him. And when he then was asked where he'd gotten his clothes, he answered that he'd made them by himself, and then waited patiently for his plan to bear fruits._

_Finally it did, and the tailor from the town nearby came to ask if he would like to become his apprentice. He of course answered "yes"._

_He was now twelve years old._

* * *

"Should we ask if they would like something to eat?" Dean asked nervously, once just another hour had went by with no changes in Crowley's condition.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Does angel's require food? Cass clearly doesn't."

"I don't know if they  _require_  it, but I've gotten the idea that those two  _like_  to eat."

"I see what we have", Sam offered and went to the kitchen. He soon returned and shook his head. "Okay, so… We have some bread, cup noodles, one tomato, and few cans of beer. Should I go and do some groceries? It's not like we both are needed here. Even if they wont need food, we would do for some… and Bobby too, once he arrives."

Dean stood up immediately. "I'll come with you."

"One of us needs to stay and wait for Bobby", Sam reminded.

"Well, why don't you do that, and I go for the groceries?"

Sam sighed. "Because from the two of us, I am less likely to get any troubles on my way."

Dean huffed but sat down again. "Fine. Should you go ask if there's something they would like?"

Sam nodded. "I was just going to do that."

"And bring me some pie!" Dean shouted after him. "And hamburgers – I'm not going to survive this day otherwise!"

Sam shook his head of amusement as he walked to Crowley's door but then sobered a bit before knocking.

Castiel was the one who opened. "Sam", he greeted.

"Hey. No changes?" he asked as he peeked inside past the angel's shoulder.

Crowley's father was sitting beside his son's bed, holding one of his hand between both of his owns, and Aziraphale rubbed calming circles over the fallen angel's back. On the other side of the bed, there was a dib on the mattress near Crowley's pillow; Juliet the Hellhound was probably resting its head near of it's master's face.

"None", Castiel answered. "Is there a problems?"

"Ah – no. I just came to ask if any of you needed something? I'm going to the market."

Castiel turned to look at the other occupants in the room. The fallen shared them no attention, but Aziraphale smile tiredly. "How considerable, dear boy. Tea would be lovely, and some water to Juliet, if it's not too much bother."

"No… no bother at all. I could bring the water right away… or would you come to get it, Cass?"

The angel nodded. "Sure."

At the kitchen, they spent some time for looking a suitable container. Dean also joined their company.

"You're really worried for his sake, aren't you?" he asked from Castiel.

The angel looked at him, his blue eyes tired and sad. "Wouldn't you be, if it was Sam laying there instead of him?"

Dean was tactful enough to not point out that unlike Cass and Crowley, Sam was his  _actual_  brother, who he'd know and taken care of ever since he was born. But he understood what Castiel meant, and that's why he stepped closer and hugged the angel. "It's okay, Cass. He'll wake up, bitch around for a while and bemoan how it's somehow our fault that things went how they did, but he'll be okay. I promise."

Castiel shook his head that was pressed against Dean's neck. "The thing I'm most afraid of is that once he wakes up, he's forgotten all that happened after he originally lost that part of his soul… including his father, Aziraphale, Bobby… and me."

Dean gulped and patted his head. "That won't happen", he assured. "I mean, after all we have went trough? Preventing apocalypse, fighting against Leviathans… Nah, there's no way he can forgot all that!"

Castiel sighed and let go of the hunter, stepping back while smiling a bit. "I hope you're right, Dean. I really do."

* * *

_Later he would say – if anyone asked – that his time as tailor's apprentice was the happiest time of his life. His master was a severe and demanding man, who used quickly rod if detected any slacking, but he was also fair man and knew when to give praises. And now he no longer needed to sleep in the shed, but inside the house with other apprentices, he'd enough to eat and he even get to spent every other Sunday as he pleased, with no work in his hands._

_Time went by, and he became a rather attractive young man. He started to notice girls… and they, of course, noticed him._

_It was the irony that he eventually had to leave the town because of a one woman he never laid with – his master daughter._

_Once the tailor saw how infatuated his daughter was with his young apprentice, he had to work quickly. It wasn't that he didn't like the boy – quite the opposite – but he'd already decided to give his daughters hand to the oldest of apprentices and have him continue his venture. That gave him no choises than sent his youngest apprentice away, to the bigger town where he hopefully would find himself a new master._

_The apprentice himself wasn't overly shaken by that; he took his few belongings – and the purse that he'd nicked from the older apprentice – and was ready to start a new chapter in his life. He was now nineteen-years-old and full of self-confidence._

_And for a quite some time, things seemed to be going just well: he found a new master who was very taken by of the skills of his apprentice, and met a girl from a good family whose parents were, if not delighted, at least ready to consider him as a future son-in-law. She wasn't extremely bright or beautiful, but she'd kindness in her that called that part of his heart where the little boy still hoped for his mother's acceptance._

_He was twenty-five years old when he opened his own vendor, and only year later he went married._

_All could have been fine if the Jacobite rising hadn't came to Scotland._

_He's father-in-law was a zealous Jacobite, and so he either had no other choises than join the rebellion in 1689._

_That war… changed him, and not for the better._

* * *

Bobby finally arrived.

"Let me see him first", the old hunter grunted. "Then you can start to explain how in hell this happened."

Dean accompanied Bobby in Crowley's room, trying to not think too closely about the massive Hellhound walking behind them. Bobby saw his fidgeting and huffed, "Get over it! Growley won't attack on anybody, at least as long as no-one tries to harm either Fergus or me. Right, boy?"

The bark he was given for answer did nothing to ease Dean down.

As soon as they stepped in the Crowley's room, Bobby sat on the bed beside the demon and reached out a hand to carefully caress his cheek, as if Crowley was suddenly made of glass. The look on his face was so desperately gentle that it very nearly broke Dean's heart.

Aziraphale stood up and helped his partner on his feet. "Come on, dear – let's give them some privacy."

"You don't need to –" Bobby started, but the angel shook his head.

"I insist, mister Singer. I'm sure that Fergus, too, would appreciate that."

Crowley's father nodded, even though he looked torn. "Just… If he wakes up –"

"- I'll call you back right away", Bobby assured.

"Right." The fallen angel allowed Aziraphale to lead him out of the room. The last thin Dean managed to see before Castiel closed the door was Bobby sitting on Crowley's bed, his one hand now holding the demon's while his other hand petted the air over his lap where one of the Hellhounds had probably rested it's head.

"I hate this", Crowley senior muttered.

"I know, dear."

The fallen sighed. "Well… If we had to wait… do you happen to have any wine in the house?" he asked while turned to look at Dean. He had taken away his sunglasses, and his golden eyes were little innerving, considering how much they reminded Dean of one certain yellow-eyed demon…

 _Get hold of yourself!_  Dean commanded himself.  _That bastard has been gone a long time already._  Out of loud he said, "Yeah, sure. Let's get to the library, and I'll open a bottle…"

* * *

_After he returned from the rebellion, he started to work again, but could no longer find any pleasure of it like he'd once done. He watched the customers and couldn't help but thinking, 'What would you do in the war? Would you be those who attack and die on the frontlines? Or those who hide beneath the corpses of the fallen ones, hoping that you go unnoticed?'_

_His trust on humans, that had always been fragile, was now shattered. He'd seen that underneath the thin layer of civilization, they were all brutal animals, ready to do whatever it takes to survive – he himself included._

_He started to drink. He'd never been much of a drinker before, not by standards, but now he even went work as a drunk. That was the only way to shut down the wails of his fallen comrades._

_The his wife gave birth to a son._

_DID YOU HATE HIM? said the voice that had been silence for a so long time._

" _I don't know."_

_YOU BELITTLED HIM, BEAT HIM, STARVED HIM, DENIED HIM AN EDUCATION; AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT YOU DON'T KNOW IF YOU HATED HIM?_

" _I don't know!" Part of him hoped that he'd cared of his son at least a little bit; that his harshness towards him had been because he'd wanted him to grow strong, to be spared from that horrible weakness that had haunted him ever since his early childhood: his need to be loved._

_YOU WERE JEALOUS. YOU SAW HOW MUCH YOUR WIFE LOVED YOUR SON, AND JUST COULDN'T HANDLE IT. SINCE WHY SHOULD HE BE LOVED BY HIS MOTHER, WHEN YOU WEREN'T BY YOURS? WHY SHOULD YOUR WIFE LOVE ANYONE ELSE BUT YOU?_

" _You know nothing about it!" he shouted._

_YOU STARTED TO SEEK LOVE ELSEWHERE, FROM CHEAP WHOREHOUSES AND TAVERS; AND ONE NIGHT, YOU ENCOUNTERED A DEMON…_

" _I was drunk! I thought that she was joking!"_

_YOU SOLD YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL, AND FOR WHAT? THREE EXTRA INCHES BELOW THE WAIST._

" _Double digits", he muttered his old catch-phrase._

_WAS IT FORTH IT?_

" _I made a mistake! What do you want of me? I made a fucking mistake, okay?"_

" _MAKE A DEAL, KEEP IT." THAT'S WHAT YOU LIKED TO SAY. BUT I THINK WE ALL KNOW THAT YOU NEVER HELD YOUR OWN END OF YOUR OWN DEAL…_

* * *

Once Bobby walked library, Crowley's father stood up and looked at him pleadingly; when the hunter simply shook his head, he sighed and crossed the room, Aziraphale straight on his heel, to return on his son's side. Castiel went to follow them, but Bobby stopped him. "Stay; I have a lot to ask, and I think you're all here once I do so."

Dean and Sam (who'd returned from the market) tried to keep their cool even though all their instincts, honed by childhood memories, were telling them to run before Bobby started yelling.

Bobby sat down on the sofa, and it was only after they saw him adjusting his position as if something big was coming to sit beside him, they realized that he'd brought one of the Hellhounds with him.

"Fergus told him to watch over me, and Growley takes his duties seriously", he explained after seeing how the boys stared at him. "Don't you, boy?"

Happy bark, and then they could clearly see how Bobby's face got licked by an invisible but eager, most tongue.

Sam stared his eyes wide, but Dean, who had decided that he wasn't going to get any more surprised than he already was, just rolled his eyes and went to fetch few cans of beer.

They tried to explain all that happened to Bobby as detailed as possible. It took some time, and the old hunter truly did ask a lot od questions, but finally he'd clear overall picture of how things went.

"That stupid little…" he muttered, and Dean was sure that if Bobby was any lesser man, he would have started to cry.  _He really must love Crowley_ , he thought.  _Well, at least we now know that it goes on bother sides… considering how far Crowley was ready to go just to confirm himself the thing that for others was as clear as the day._

The Hellhound, Growley, whined, and Dean was sure that it was now either licking Bobby's chin or at least nuzzling it with its muzzle.

 _We're one crazy family_ , Dean thought, and rubbed absentmindedly Cass' knuckles – he'd no idea when he'd took then angel's hand into his own, but neither was he planning to let it go.  _Crazy family, indeed… But is it so bad if I like it as it is?_

* * *

_When his ten years came to an end, the Hellhounds were sent after him, and the first place he could think about – he, who hadn't taken apart any sacrament ever since returning from the war – who hadn't been there when his own son had been Christianized – was a church. There he did something that he hadn't ever done before, not even when he was still a kid and at least tried to act like a good Christian: he prayed._

_What a sweet irony was it that the angel who arrived to him was one of the fallen ones, too?_

"I'm just a substitute; the angel is busy elsewhere" _, the stranger said before even glancing at him._ "I'm also sorry but we – or he – don't really have a power to interrupt any deals made with downstairs, as longs as there isn't any foul play on the board; that said, suck to be you, but –" _and then the ex-angel looked at him – he'd a curiously golden eyes – and made a strange voice, as if someone was throttling him._ "Oh. OH. Well, this is… unexpected. Really. I had no idea you existed…"

_The angry howl of the Hellhounds just behind the church's door startled them both._

"This is not good… But I can't simply left you here to maimed, now that I… What would the angel say? What would my FATHER say?!"

 _He had no time to even shout before the fallen had grabbed him firmly around his wrist._  "Hold on tight" _, the fallen said, and then shouted,_ "Angel! Come back to home! I need you!"

_And the next thing he know, they were standing – in the rain – outside of a nice-looking house._

"Good old London",  _the fallen muttered with a voice that was anything but sincere,_ "How I have missed your mist and rains…"

"London?"  _he croaked._  "But that can't be… We just were –"

"Hush now, child",  _the fallen said and knocked the door,_  "The angel's best to be back, or else we're soon  _both_  dog food…"

"Now listen, fellow! I'm sixty-three years old, not a –"

 _He was interrupted by the door opening; in the doorway stood a blond, plump man who looked at the fallen with strict look on his face. "Snake!" he shouted._ "What do you think you're doing – dragging this sinner to my doorstep?"

"Angel, let us in, this is –"

"I certainly won't do anything of the sort!"  _the angel answered._  "What ever has he done, he has done from his own free will."

"Angel…"

"NO."

 _Suddenly the fallen fell onto its knees and lowered his head, pressing his forehead againt the ground._ "Please, angel! I need your help. Please."

 _The angel was clearly taken aback._ "Are you pleading from me?"  _he asked._

"Yes, I'm pleading; for G- Sa- for Someone's sake, I can even beg if you want, but please, let us in!"  _the fallen cried out without lifting his head._

 _The angel bite his lip, before shaking his head and stepping aside._ "Come on in, then."

_The fallen stood up and grabbed his arm, dragging him away from the rain and inside of the house._

"Well then, snake? Care to explain why this man's soul is so important, aside of all others?"

 _The fallen laughed nervously, rubbing his neck._  "Yeah, a funny thing… Well, not joking-funny, more like peculiar-funny… That being, you see – And I have no idea how this has happened, but –  _he's my son_ …"

_It took few minutes of what was said to sink into his liquor-mulled mind. The he bunched the fallen into his nose._

_HE DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, the voice said. IT WASN'T LIKE HE ABANDONED YOU ON PURPOSE; EVEN BACK THEN; AND AS SOON HE REALIZED THAT YOU WERE HIS OWN FLESH AND BLOOD, HE DID ALL HE COULD TO SAVE YOU._

" _Do you think that I don't know that?" he spit out. "Cut me some credit, will you? I was in a shock, I wasn't thinking clear."_

_SO THE YOU THROWING BOOKS ON HIS HEAD, SWEARING AND ACTING LIKE A TRUE BRAT WHILE HE AND AZIRAPHALE WERE LOOKING A WAY TO SPARE YOU FROM THE HELLFIRE, WAS YOU THINKING CLEAR?_

" _NO; that came later!"_

_LITTLE CHILDISH, DON'T YOU THINK?_

" _Hey, who are you to judge me?" he shouted, now really irritated._

" _WHO?" I THINK YOU SHOULD ALREADY KNOW…_

_Then there was a man standing in front of him; man in his early sixties, but looking older than his years, marks of hardships, letdowns and heavy drinking having drawn their lines in to the skin of his face. But his eyes were the most familiar part; those same eyes looked back to him every time he looked at the mirror, even if their colors and the faces they looked from were different. Those were eyes of a child who grow up without love, eyes full of suspicion and ire, and insatiable hunger that no food could ever satisfy; eyes that were carving for love, ruthless and unforgiving in their need; eyes that burned so fiercely that they would most likely to set on flames and burn down everyone who stepped too close._

" _You… you're me", he said._

_Man smirked dryly. OR YOU'RE ME._

" _What is this? Am I… dreaming? Hallucinating?" he looked around himself, as if only now realizing something. "Where am I? What did those two idiots do?!"_

_THEY CURED YOU._

" _Those -! I never asked them to go that far!"_

_THERE WERE NO OTHER CHOISES. DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED?_

_He tried to remember, but all he could recall was burning, white-hot agony. "What-?"_

_YOUR SOUL RETURNED TO YOU. GONCRATULATIONS, YOU'RE WHOLE AGAIN._

" _But… I didn't mean that to happen! All I wanted was…"_

_TO KNOW IF YOU INDEED LOVE BOBBY SINGER. WELL, HERE*S YOUR ANSWER: YOU DO._

" _And how do you know that so surely?"_

_The man – or, representative of at least one part of his soul – rolled his eyes. I AM YOU._

" _Then why_ I _don't know it?" he grouched._

_YOU DO; YOU JUST DON'T TRUST YORSELF._

" _Well, considering my track-record, that's not necessarily bad thing."_

_THEY'RE WAITING FOR YOU, his soul said._

" _Who?"_

_YOUR FATHER AND AZIRAPHALE, CASTIEL, BOBBY, YOUR HELLHOUNDS… EVEN THE WINCHESTERS._

" _Bobby is here?" he squeaked. "Or there… Or whatever."_

_YES._

"… _Is he very angry?"_

_Again that dry smirk. WHY DON'T YOU GO AND SEE BY YOURSELF?_

_Was it childish to flip a bird towards one's own soul…?_

_The man shook his head. VERY ADULT. HOW OLD WE WERE AGAIN?_

" _You're intolerable!"_

_WELL, THAT GOES FOR YOU TOO, THEN; WE'RE SAME, REMEMBER?_

" _I try to forget… So, how am I supposed to get out of… here, wherever we are?"_

_SIMPLY, his soul said and took a step closer. YOU JUST NEED A… WAKE-UP CALL._

_And then his soul pushed him on the chest, making him fall backwards; but instead tumbling down on the floor, he found himself falling into the nothingness – deep, deep nothingness._

_The last thing he saw was his soul peeking down at him and waving his hand cheekily. HAVE A SAFE TRIP!_

" _You moron!" he screamed…_

* * *

And in his bed, Fergus sponged up, shout "you moron" on his lips, and hit his head together with his father's.


	2. I Missed You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fergus wakes up and has a long-awaited conversation with Bobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, I guess. I hope it's not too mushy or sappy (I don't still get romance all that well).

The shout coming from Fergus' room made Bobby jump on his feet; Growley barged happily and run a little circle around the old hunter before nudging him impatiently, clearly saying,  _'What are we waiting for?'_

"Was that him?" Bobby asked – from Hellhound or the brothers, he wasn't sure. "Was that really him?" Growley wagged his tail for an answer (making it whack against Bobby's knees) and Dean and Sam nodded stunnedly, clearly unfamiliar with their mentor to act this anxiously.

Bobby took few deep, calming breaths before patting Growley's head. "Okay, boy – let's go and give that stupid owner of yours a little piece of our mind!"

* * *

Fergus' waking up caused a little chaos in his room. Juliet was so delighted that she jumped right away to his bed and managed to slobber all over his face till Castiel managed to drag her back down (and just in time, since the poor bed hadn't made to carry a dog of a size of pony, and would have eventually given out under her weight). His father seemed just as happy, and made a movement as if he was planning to hug his son – which they, both being demons, never did, evading everything too "touchy feely" in their relationship – then seemly rethought his action and pulled back, only to share a glance with Aziraphale and then caught Fergus into a tight hug anyway.

Normally Fergus would have went stiff and push him away as soon as possible (that's what he did when Az decided to hug him, anyways – but this time he let it be and even relaxed a bit, his arms raising a bit to hug back before he remembered that they weren't alone and blushed instead – and even that was something that he hadn't done ever since he was a human, and possibly a teenage one.

Someone took his hand and gave it a warm squeeze. Fergus looked at his side and saw Castiel standing there, smiling at him with a shining eyes. "I'm happy to see you're back with us", the angel said.

Fergus frowned. "You have a plenty of explaining to do", he said back, but didn't pull his hand away and even returned to the squeeze.

Another hand – Aziraphale's – patted him gently on the shoulder. "We have time for that later; right now, I think, there's someone else coming to see you."

Fergus opened his eyes to ask "Who?", but was interrupted by the door opening and Growley banging in, and just behind him came…

"Bobby…?" Fergus whispered.

The old hunter seemed rigid, but relaxed right away after hearing Fergus to recall his name. Fergus stared at him, taking everything in as if it had been years since they last time met; hadn't there there been less wrinkles, little less gray in his beard…? And he'd gained little weight again, probably being eating those horrible TV-meals again… That man really didn't know how to take care of himself, just how had he survived this long? Well, he would just need to cook him a few nice, homemade meals and…

_I love him._

The realization suddenly filled his mind, making his heart beat little faster; and this time it actually felt like it was literally  _his_  heart, pumping  _his_  blood thorough  _his_  veins, inside his own body, and not  _just some vessel_ …

_I was cured_ , he reminded himself,  _more or less. Now this is my body…_

He could have been more delighted of that discovery if said body hadn't right now been making everything it could to make him feel awkward and shy.  _Since when have I ever been shy?_  Fergus berated himself.  _I'm the King of Hell! That's just Bobby, the man I… I luv-love…_

_Why_  had to his face get so heated right now?!

Bobby stared at him strangely. "Well, for once it's your turn, huh? You idjit." Then he turned to look at the other occupants of the room; Castiel, who still held Fergus' hand; Anthony, who had stopped hugging him but simply didn't seem to be able to take his hand completely of off his son and was now fixing his hair in a pathetically sweet way; and Aziraphale, who stood beside his partner, one hand on Fergus' and one hand on his father's shoulder. Perfect picture of a family.

"If it's not too much to ask", he said, "I would like to have a moment with Fergus." The word "alone" went unsaid, but they all knew that that was what he meant.

Aziraphale nodded solemnly. "Of course; come on now, dear… You can continue messing with his hair later…"

Once Fergus realized that he would actually be left alone with the hunter, he crabbed his father's arm desperately. "No, dad! Don't leave me!"

Anthony looked torn, but Az and Castiel gently pried Fergus' fingers loose of his sleeve and dragged him out with them.

"Really, Anthony", Az was explaining, "we need to let the children to sort this out on their own!"

Bobby rolled his out – not actually customized to be recalled as "child" – and shut the door behind them before turning back to Fergus.

Now they were alone – minus two Hellhounds, who no-one even tried to command away from their masters' side. Bobby walked to the bed and sat on to it, not bothered of how Fergus seemed to be looking anywhere but at him. "So… You alright?"

"Fine", Fergus answered, trying to make it sound like "why wouldn't I?".

Bobby looked strictly at him before shrugging. "Okay then, let's say that I believe you… Next I should probably ask, "what the Hell were you thinking?", but it seems little pointless since clearly you  _weren't_  thinking… at all."

Fergus shrugged. "Whatever you say… Besides, I AM fine."

"Yeah? So why won't you try to look me at eyes while saying that? Maybe then I would believe you."

Feeling his spike rising, Fergus lifted his eyes to meet Bobby's – and got totally thrown away by hunter's warm, steady, searching gaze. This man knew him, at least as well as his father did – and maybe better than him in some regards, since Anthony had never been human and so he could never completely understand…

"Well?" Bobby said. "I'm waiting you to tell me just how "fine" you are…"

"I'm… I'm … fine – Damnit!" Fergus cursed. "What the Hell is wrong with me? I've never had any problems with –"

"– Lying?" Bobby concluded wryly.

"Shut it", Fergus muttered angrily.

Bobby sighed and then reached out his hand, ruffling Fergus' hair with an affectionate manner. "It's okay", he assured.

"No, it's not!" Fergus denied, but made no effort to push the hunter away, even though he detested to be petted like some dog. "It's all these…  _feelings_. Like all I wanted to do was cry like some pathetic baby –"

"Then do so."

Fergus stared at him. "Don't be ridiculous!"

Bobby shrugged. "It's not like there's anyone else but you and me in the room right now – plus the hounds, but I doubt that neither of them are going to see you any lesser than what you are if you shed a few tears… I, for one, am not, at least."

And blast it, didn't that made his eyes feel like burning…?

"I understand that this must feel strange to you", Bobby continued. "All those feelings you were so sure you'd never have to deal with again, all bottled up inside you… Must be overwhelming."

"You don't say…"

"Yeah", Bobby said and scratched his own neck, "Damn, I'm not good at things like this… I'm more of the type like "just swallow it, and let's keep going"… But if anyone I know has ever needed a chick-flick moment, that would probably be you."

Fergus took a wavering breath. "I want to  _watch_  a chick-flick; some sappy, teeth-rotting melodrama, and I want to cuddle up with you and eat a whole can of ice-cream while watching it. No, make that two cans. Or maybe three…"

Bobby smiled a bit sheepishly. "Well, I'm not sure about the movie – not here in Bunker, at least – and are you trying to catch diabetes? But… If it's cuddle you need, then…" And even though he blushed while doing it, Bobby spread his arms in an inviting manner. "Come 'ere."

He didn't need to ask twice; soon Fergus was clinging on him, half-way in his lap and arms around his neck. The ex-demon had his face pressed against Bobby's neck, and the hunter could feel warm puffs of his breaths, as well as the moist of his tears. Bobby wrapped one of his arms around Fergus' waist, while his other hand returned to its earlier position, petting his hair.

"I've missed you", the hunter grumbled. "Missed your voice, and your stories, and your cooking's…"

"I knew you only kept me around me because of the food", Fergus joked with a wet voice.

"Of course", Bobby admitted lightly. "That's why I'm willing to listen your bitching about how messy my house is and you tidying up my study till I no longer find anything there… must be that…" Then he carefully lifted Fergus' face and looked him into a eyes. "Or then it just  _might_  be because I love you, you idjit."

Fergus stared up at him, his eyes puffy, face red and tear-streaked, and nose running, and it certainly wasn't the most endearing sight in the world. But then Fergus smiled – not his normal smirk, no; this smile was sincere, and a tad shy, and made his eyes gleam. "And I love you, you grumpy old man", he said, and then kissed Bobby straight on the lips.

Bobby answered to the gesture with no hesitation, as if this was something he'd wanted do as soon as he walked in the room, and had just been holding back for the sake of Fergus. The kiss soon grew heated, hands wandered aimlessly to look more friction, and at some point Bobby started boldly to push Fergus down on the bed.

Suddenly, the ex-demon pushed him away.

"What? What's wrong?" the hunter asked, worried that he'd somehow affronted Fergus.

His partner was blushing furiously. "Not in front of my Hellhounds!" he hissed.

Bobby stared at him, blinked his eyes – twice – and started to laugh.

Fergus glared him. "What's so funny?"

"You just… ha ha… I never thought that I would life to see the day when you're acting  _modestly!_ " the hunter almost howled with amusement.

Fergus slapped his arm lightly. "Hey! I let you know, mister, that these Hounds are my babies! You wouldn't want me to start sex you up in front of the Winchesters, would you now?"

Juliet, most like understanding that she'd been referred after, stood up her tail wagging and skipped to them, licking both of theirs faces wet and yipped happily to tell just how delighted she was now that both of her favourite persons were up and awake and in the same room with her.

"Well", Bobby said fondly, "I think that your  _daughter_  has at least accepted me into the family."

Fergus snorted. "Are you kidding me? I think that my boy Growley already adores you more that me ever…"

The older Hellhound barked from his side of the room, and Bobby tilted his head as if listening. "Growley there says that he feels very offended by that comment, and wants to remind you that he still loves his papa just as much as he always has (no matter how silly he might sometimes be), and he's just relieved now that he also has a daddy to help him to keep said papa plus his baby-sister out of troubles that they always seem to end up in."

"Daddy, huh?" Fergus repeated, his eyes gleaming.

Bobby shrugged. "What can I say? These two have grown in to me, mostly the same way as their papa did."

Fergus smiled and kissed the hunter lightly on the cheek. "Well, as long as you won't try to tell me to became  _an evil stepmother_  for the Winchesters…"

"Don't try to act like you wouldn't like to hold that kind of power over them."

"Mmmm, you know me too well…"

They kissed again, very sweetly and even little sappily this time. Then Bobby asked, "Should we join to the other's company, now?"

"Not yet", Fergus muttered. "Come on, let's lay down; you promised me a snuggle…"

Bobby quirked his eyebrow. "Oh? And what about the kids? I thought that you were trying to spare their tender sensibilities…"

"Oh, hush; doesn't all parents share the same bed?" Fergus asked as he laid down, patting the empty place beside him. "Please, honey… Just for a while?"

The hunter smirked. "Well, once you asked so nicely…" he said as he laid himself down beside Fergus and wrapped the ex-demon into a hug.

* * *

Eventually, they ended up falling asleep – until Bobby was woken up by a soft knock on the door. Moving carefully to not wake up still snoring Fergus, the hunter called groggily, "come on in."

The door opened just a crack and Anthony peaked in; before the demon said anything, Bobby quickly raised a finger over his lips and nodded towards Fergus. Anthony followed the gesture and looked at his son with soft eyes. "How is he?" he asked with a hushed tone.

"Confused", Bobby whispered back, "maybe little bit scared, too."

Anthony nodded. "I was sent to ask if you two wanted to join as for meal – and maybe also check out that nothing "obscene" was going on, as your boys are probably worrying about."

Bobby muffled a snort. "Sounds like them."

Anthony looked at him straight to the eyes. "I also wanted to thank you."

Bobby frowned. "For what?"

The demon gazed lovingly his son. "For being there for him. For caring." He sighed. "I know he's not a child, and that he can look after himself, but… as his father, I can't help but worry about him. I want him to be happy…"

Bobby brushed few hairs away from Fergus' forehead. "Yeah… I know what you mean."

Anthony smiled. "I'll tell the other's that you two are resting; we'll leave some food waiting."

"Yeah, thanks."

As soon as the door had closed after the demon, Bobby gently nudged Fergus' side. "Hey, stop pretending. I know you woke up few sentences back."

Fergus cracked one eye open. "From what?"

"You stopped snoring, idjit."

Fergus scoffed. "You're misinformed; I do not snore."

"Yeah, must be that. Sorry, your highness." The hunter kissed him as an apology.

"Apology accepted", Fergus purred.

"Do you want to eat? You father said there's a meal ready."

"Nah. It can wait… Let's… let's just stay like this a little bit longer, yes?"

As they snuggled back together, Bobby couldn't help but sigh contently.  _Yeah… We're in no hurry to anywhere…_


	3. A Lot of Planning Is Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group tries to plan their next movement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had hard time writing this chapter, I think it's missing balance somewhere... Maybe it's because this is mostly about a group of people talking to each other. I didn't even manage to give it a proper ending, it just suddenly stops... Well, I'll try to do better next time.  
> ALSO: Last week I published an AU one-shot about Fergus' life as a 'human', had Anthony found about him earlier. You're more than welcome to check it out too, if you already haven't!

Next time Fergus opened his eyes he was feeling little more like himself again, and ready to face the world, or at least that tiny part of it that he considered as his family and that was all that mattered anyways.

"Hey", he said to Bobby and poked the hunter in a nose, "let's go and see if those two boys of yours have managed to play a good hosts to my father and Aziraphale."

Bobby opened his eyes and looked at him serenely. "You feeling better, then?"

Fergus shrugged. "Well, I'm still expecting to you to eventually watch with me  _In her shoes_  and let me be just as clingy and teary as feel like, but right now I feel composed enough to leave the room."

Bobby kept looking at him just a moment longer before nodding and sitting up, stretching his shoulders. "Dammit… If we're going to keep sleeping like this, we need to get bigger bed…"

Fergus smiled, feeling something warm and fuzzy grow inside his belly.  _Must be happiness_ , he thought as he stood up and started to tidy his wrinkled suit. From the corner of his eye he could see Bobby following the example, though he probably only made the effort to avoid spooking the Winchesters too much.

_Yes, Squirrel and Moose… Well, I think we all just need to learn to stand each others… For Bobby's sake, at least._  He smirked sardonically.  _Oh, such a joy…_

* * *

As well as Fergus tried to uphold the brave, front, Bobby could feel the ex-demon tensing up beside him as soon as they left his room and entered to the community area. Little hesitating he reached out to brush theirs hands together, and felt his face get a bit heater as the gesture was accepted and Fergus' fingers got interlocked with his owns. He'd never been one to show affection in public…  _Oh, get real_ , he berated himself,  _It's only a family… Not that it makes this any easier…_

They found rest of the group from the kitchen, where Aziraphale was chatting animatedly with Sam about some old scrips he'd found from the bunker's library while Antony poked a cup of instant noodles with a suspecting impression on his face.

"I keep telling you, those are perfectly edible!" Dean said to the demon with exasperation.

"You said same about that greasy thing we're eating before", Anthony retorted stiffly.

"It was a  _hamburger!_  How can it be that you've lived this long without trying them out even a once?!"

"Easily", Fergus piped up; "My father doesn't eat junk food."

All heads popped up and turned towards them; it probably was little too soon for Fergus, because Bobby got the feeling that if the two Hellhounds hadn't been standing right behind them, blocking the doorway, he would have vanished back to his room.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who realized this, since suddenly everyone tried little awkwardly to look in any other direction.

Fergus rolled his eyes, clearly trying (and failing) to look bored. "Oh, please… Cut that act, all of you. I haven't suddenly become so frail that simple stare could shatter me, just because I'm no longer a demon…"

"Ah. Right", Anthony said nervously and pushed the offending noodle cup little farther from himself. "Um. Tea?"

"Preferably something stronger. You wouldn't happen to have any Craig?" Fergus asked from Dean.

"Pfff. What do you think? Even if there had been some, you would have already drunk it weeks ago…"

Aziraphale smiled kindly. "I believe that you'll find one bottle if you go and check", he promised to the hunter.

Dean stared at him. "How-? Oh, yeah; it's some angel thing, isn't it? I'm never going to get used to this", he muttered as he stalked out of the room.

Bobby and Fergus sat down on the table. Aziraphale had returned to his conversation with Sam, and Anthony started to feed his cup noodles to Juliet ("Are you sure those are good for her, dear?" "Angel, this pup has eaten her own  _poop_." "Oh, well… go on, then."); Castiel hovered awkwardly at Fergus side, until the ex-demon finally got fed up and barked, "Dammit, Feathers! Stop beating around the bush and just sit down already."

The angel flinched before he quickly sat down on the other side of the table. From there he threw nervous glances towards Fergus, who seemingly tried to pretend to not notice them. Bobby frowned;  _Those two really need to have some alone time to talk things straight soon…_

Dean returned with bottle of Craig and offered it and a shot glass to Fergus before taking a can of beer from fridge and sitting down beside Castiel. "So… What now?"

Fergus took a sip from his glass and Bobby could almost  _feel_  him relaxing a bit. "Now; I think we should talk about the current situation and how it's going to affect on status quo."

Sam turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Fergus glanced towards Anthony and Aziraphale. "From what I understand, I am no longer demon… right?"

Anthony nodded. "Positive."

"You're now a mortal; the flesh you live in is now your body, and you're bound by it's limits", Aziraphale clarified.

"But since your original form was Nephilim, you still have little more powers than what a mere mortal would have", Anthony added. "Though you should be wary with them; that body wasn't originally made to host Nephilim, so don't push it too far."

Fergus stroked his chin absentmindedly. "Now that you mention… I don't remember that I would had any supernatural abilities while I was living among humans last time…"

"Anthony and I actually made little research about that little after we met you", Aziraphale piped out.

"We came to the conclusion that duiring your last lifetime your…  _mother_  did something to bound your abilities so that you didn't even notice that they existed in the first place", Antony finished. "I think she wanted to prevent you from using your powers against her… but that also did hide you from Heavens eyes, so I would unwillingly admit that maybe we should be at least a little bit thankful of that for her…"

"I see… and now? Is Heaven going to come and finish me off?"

"They're welcome to try", Bobby muttered angrily, and gained a soft smile from Fergus; Bobby could hear his boys making gagging noises for that.

"I don't believe so", Aziraphale said. "I think that the human body you now own will hide you from them at some point… But you really are peculiar case, dear boy, so I can't promise that for sure."

"Fine… next question: What happens when I die? I sold my soul; is the deal still valid?"

Anthony and Aziraphale shared few unsure looks before started to explain simultaneously,

"We need to do some research-"

"-but from as far as we know-"

"-you're off the hook."

Fergus raised both his hand with exasperated manner and said, "Don't do that! Do you have any idea how creepy that is?"

Anthony took a breath (that he probably didn't need), and said, "We think that the deal you made was completed once you entered the Hell and became a demon. We even have a precedent to reinforce our theory", he added, and nodded towards Dean.

Dean blinked his eyes. "Me?"

Aziraphale smiled friendly at him. "Yes, you; when you sold your soul and then was rescued by Castiel, no-one came after you to collect the debt, isn't that so?"

"And we're positive that once you finally meet your, um,  _natural_  end – and in no hope do we hope that happening any day soon! -, you won't need to go back to Hell", Anthony finished.

"Wait, what?" Dean almost squeaked. "There was a possibility that I would need to return?"

Anthony shrugged. "Deal's a deal."

Dean stared at him stunnedly. "I need another beer", he muttered before trying to stand up.

Castiel was faster than him. "I'll fetch it for you", he offered.

"Huh. Thanks."

Aziraphale looked at sympathetically. "I'm so sorry; I'd no idea that our words would impact you like this. We… Humans are still a big question mark for us, most of the time."

"No, no, no; it's okay", Dean said while taking the can that Castiel passed to him. "I just… I hadn't even realized that there was even more things that I should had been worried about…"

Sam reached out to pat him over the shoulder, while Castiel after little hesitation took his free hand and held it securely between both of his owns. The way the angel looked at Dean – like he was the most wonderful, precious, beloved being in the world – made Bobby feel little awkward.  _It's those eyes… Cass really makes true of the sentence "eyes are mirrors of the souls"…_

Fergus coughed a bit, so clearly Bobby wasn't the only one who was affected by Castiel's blatant admiration towards Dean. "Fine, let's move on: So far it's clear that a) I'm not a demon, and b) I won't become a demon, at least if I don't sell my soul again -"

"- Which you absolutely won't do", Bobby finished severely and glared the ex-demon in a way that promised consequences if the other even dared to think about it.

"Yes, yes, I'm not stupid, Bobby! – But this leads us to my third question:  _What_  are we now going to do with Abaddon?"

Now they all stared at him questioningly.

Fergus sighed. "Think about it: before this, I was still king of Hell, even if in exile, and I would have claimed back my crown once we'd figured out how to finish that bitch, right? Well, what do you think that would happen if I tried to rule the Hell as I'm now?"

"Shit", Sam muttered, the first one to catch up. "Now we don't only need to find a way to defeat Abaddon, we also need to figured out who we can nominate to your successor."

Bobby looked at Anthony. "Well, what about you? You're a demon, right?"

The fallen looked absolutely horrified by the idea. "Me? No, no, no! I don't want to rule anything, and Hell is so depressing place in this time of year – well, in any time of year, actually – and they don't have a restaurants there or room for my Bentley or good environment for my houseplants… And my angel, they wouldn't allow me to take him with me, nor would he even want to…"

"Forget it, Bobby", Fergus said. "My father doesn't have a lust for power and glory."

"So who, then?" Dean asked from the ex-king. "Not that I'm trying to compliment you or anything, but you weren't totally rotten ruler… and you knew how to keep the Hell in control. Who can we trust to do the same?"

"Is there anyone you could consider?" Sam added. "Like, someone who thinks the same way as you do? Or owes you a favor?"

Fergus tapped the table with his fingers. "There is few, but… they're more like yes-men, not ones that could make others to follow their lead…" Then his face brightened and he snapped his fingers. "Oh, right! There  _is_  a one, actually… If she's still alive and hasn't joined on Abaddon's side, that's it…"

"Well, how can we make sure of that?" Dean asked.

"Well, we could try to summon her…" Sam suggested, but Fergus shook his head.

"No, that would easily turn her against us… It's better if I try to call her first, test the waters a bit… Maybe we could arrange a meeting in a neutral ground…"

"Which could proved out to be a trap", Bobby grunted.

Fergus shrugged. "Wouldn't be overly surprised if that happened, but… I trust that between you three and Castiel here you could handle the situation just well."

"You mean we would walk willingly in the trap?" Dean asked incredulously.

"She wouldn't bring more than ten or so demons, anyways; she will want to test which side has better chances to succeed before she makes her decision, anyways."

Bobby lifted one of his eyebrows. "You seem to know her well. Should I be worried?"

Fergus eyes widened before he smirked deviously. "Oh, what's that? Are you maybe jealous of little old me?"

"So what if I am?" Bobby shot back, not caring of the blush that creeped over his cheeks.

It was really awarding to see Fergus' face darkening in the similar manner, before he quickly ducked his head to avoid the older hunter's eyes. "Oh, can it! She's – it's nothing like that between us, understand? She's more like a PA or a some sort of protégée than anything else for me. See, she made this little favor for me just before her time  _unfortunately_  ran out, so I decided to be more merciful for her than what's normal duiring her, erm, initiation, so to say…"

"You mean you tortured her little less than others", Dean said dryly.

"Hey, she was a true survivor! As soon as I mentioned her that she would pass without mutilation if she just took a knife and used it on someone else, she was all too happy to oblige! It helped that the one I asked her to cut was her own father…"

"What!?" the most of them exclaimed simultaneously.

"Family matters", Fergus said stiffly. "He was a true bastard, anyways; I felt that I could relate… Because of, you know,  _mom_ ", he added after Anthony flinched.

"Ah… yes, yes, of course…" the demon muttered.

"Is this our plan, then?" Sam interrupted. "We meet her, beat up few demons to prove that we're noteworthy allies, and then convince her to become the next king – or  _queen_  – of Hell once we've gotten Abaddon out of the way?"

"That sums it up well", Fergus admitted.

"Don't you think this is just a little desperate plan?"

"You got any better, moose?"

"No, but… what if she become just as bad fret as Abaddon is? You seem to like her well enough, but is she still all that trustworthy? After all, she  _is_  a demon – nothing personal", he added hastily while glancing nervously towards Anthony, who just nodded of acknowledge.

Fergus opened his mouth to answer, but Dean beat him on it, "Who cares? Right now Abaddon is our number one issue – let's worry about Fergus little friend if and when it becomes topical."

"How gracious", Fergus snarked.

"Speaking of Abaddon", Bobby said, "Do any of us have ideas of how we're supposed to defeat her?"

Dean shrugged. "She's a Knight of Hell, so our normal weapons won't work… last time we only managed to immobilize and then imprison her -"

"- and then let her loose again, you morons…" Fergus muttered, and Bobby swatted his thigh gently.

"- but this time we need to finish her up", Dean concluded.

"Have you got any ideas?" Sam asked from Castiel, Aziraphale and Anthony.

The younger angel shook his head. "I don't think there's many weapons left that could kill something like her… At least those that we can get our hands on to. None of us is exactly wanted in Heaven…"

"So there's nothing in Earth?" Bobby asked.

"I wouldn't say  _nothing_ ", Aziraphale clarified. "They're only rare, and hard to find."

"…You're not planning to use the knife of Cain, are you?" Anthony asked worriedly.

Aziraphale huffed. "Of course not! That jar of worms should never be opened again… No, I'm thinking about my old sword."

"The flaming sword?" Sam whispered. "It's a real thing?"

"Why, of course it is!"

"Then why don't you just go and fetch it right away?" Dean asked impatiently.

"Ah… Well, that's the problem…"

"He gave it away", Anthony deadpanned. "To Adam and Eve."

"You… what?" Castiel asked, his eyes wide as saucers.

"But it was raining!" Aziraphale wailed. "It was raining, and cold, and they had no place to go… And she was even pregnant! Who knows if they'd even survived without it…"

"Wait", Sam interrupted. "The story about the Garden and an apple and a snake – it's all true? And not just in, you know, metaphoric sense?"

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Hey, snake of the Garden, right here."

Sam actually blushed. "Yes, I know, but I just always assumed…"

"Then what about evolution?" Dean asked.

Castiel frowned. "What about it?"

"You know, monkeys, humans… Didn't that happen?"

Aziraphale blinked his eyes. "Why, of course it did – though I'm not sure if I understand where this is going –"

"But if humans evolved from monkeys" ("Had same ancestors with apes, Dean –"), "then how can they at the same time be created by God in some paradise?"

Three angels (one of then fallen) stared at him questioningly.

Fergus shook his head. "It's better to not ask, Squirrel – things like that aren't meant for mortal brains to understand."

"But-!"

"Let's just assume that these guy live in totally different plane of existence than we do and leave it there. The correct answer would probably blow our minds – and not in any pleasurable way", he added and smirked seductively at Bobby; the old hunter rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine", Dean grudgingly gave up.

Sam coughed. "Um, so… If you gave your sword away… Do you have any idea where to find it?" he asked from Aziraphale.

"No… But I could try to do some dig up in my archive and maybe find some incantation or spell that could help us to advance", the angel said.

"I'll help you", Anthony volunteered. "I mean… If you're sure that you can handle things there", he then said while turning towards his son.

Fergus rolled his eyes. "I'm a big boy, father; I think I can survive without you holding my hand all the time."

"And he has Mr. Singer at his side", Aziraphale reminded and beamed at the hunter.

Bobby scratched his neck. "Meanwhile, we could probably look up if there's any mentioning of your sword in Men of Letters library…"

"Right", Sam nodded. "That's a good place to start."

Dean looked around the table. "So, that's it? We have a plan, now?"

Castiel smiled at him. "It seems so."

"Good, then", the hunter said and hit his now empty beer can against the table. "The session has ended! Now let's get this crazy mission going on…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that most of you have realized right away who this "she" demon is... She'll make her proper entrance into the story in soon.


	4. Strengthening the Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, things seem to be going well... except when they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little slowburn chapter with a lot of feelings, but I'll get back to the story soon enough.

Soon after Aziraphale and Anthony had left, the rest of the group occupied the Men of Letter's library. Fergus, Dean and Castiel picked up a dusty tome after another, quickly scrolled it over and either returned it to the self or added it to the pile of the books that "could contain something useful", from where Bobby or Sam then would give it little closer look and conclude if the book suited their purposes.

It took some time, but finally they had little over twenty books that were hailed the most accurate for their current need.

"Huh. Been some time since I've done this much research", Bobby said as he stretched his neck with grimace.

"Are you well?" Fergus asked, and started to rub hunters shoulder. Only deaf and blind would have ignored the unsaid word "darling" in the end of his sentence. Since no-one in the room were either, Sam started to scratch awkwardly his neck while Dean suddenly found the ceiling surprisingly interesting. Castiel just watched the pair, and tried to understand what was this emotion that washed over him as he took in the endearing scene… The feeling was dark and brooding, and it tasted of lost and unfairness; like the love he was witnessing was somehow away of something that he  _should_  have, even if that made no sense at all. Could it be envy…?

_Have I really fallen that far?_

Castiel wanted so desperately be happy for Fergus' sake… But all he could think of how he wanted that he and Dean could talk to each other as freely as his almost-brother did with Bobby. It wasn't like they were being aloof, and they had talked so easily over the phone, but… now they were standing in the same room, and Castiel wanted to be close of him and chat and… stuff, yet Dean was acting almost professionally. He understood that they were in the middle of a case and the hunter needed to concentrate, but more that that awkward hug while waiting Fergus' to woke up and the earlier hand-holding which Dean probably hadn't even noticed, they hadn't even  _touched_  each other!

When Castiel first had confessed to Dean (read: kissed him out of nowhere), and Dean had nervously rejected him, it had hurt but he'd understood and accepted the fact; but then they had started calling to each other's and after some time the hunter had started to sound little flirty, and he'd allowed himself to hope… but now nothing in Dean's behavior pointed in that way, and Castiel was both confused and saddened by that.

Meanwhile, Bobby gently placed his hand over Fergus' on his shoulder. "Nah… Neck just got little stiff. I had to sat too long in a same position…"

Fergus smiled and brushed a kiss over his cheek, clearly forgotten all about of their audience. "You aren't growing any younger there, darling."

Bobby snorted. "Well, neither are you, not any longer", he reminded and tugged gently Fergus hair.

Fergus pursed his lips as if he'd just been terribly offended. "Oh, really? I happen to look much younger than what people of my age normally do, thank you very much."

"And what age is that? Three hundred?" Bobby baited back while smiling; Castiel hadn't seen that expression on his face too often, and he supposed that it made the old hunter look almost handsome.

Fergus opened his mouth for repack, but was interrupted by Dean, who chose that moment to shout out, "Enough! Can you two please be all "just married" and cutsie somewhere else than where I am?"

Bobby shot an irritated glance towards him. "Don't act like a brat, Dean."

"Hard to  _not_ ; that's exactly what he is", Fergus muttered.

"Play nicely", Bobby scolded him, but his voice and the fact that they were holding hands indicated that he wasn't being serious. Castiel saw Dean rolling his eyes.

Sam had seemingly came to a conclusion that it was his time once again to play the peacemaker. "Okay, I think its time to take a break. Should we eat something? I can fix few sandwiches…"

Fergus snorted. "Sandwiches? Really? How on earth have you two survived this long… Forget it; I'm cooking."

Sam raised his eyebrow doubtfully. "You? Since when have you know how to cook?"

"The better question is, why haven't you done that even once in whole that time you've been bunking with us?" Dean growled.

Fergus smirked at him. "First: my talents are unlimited; when are you going to realize that? And secondly, why should I waste my time and skills to you, when you still think that a cheeseburger is the culmination of the modern food culture?"

"He learned to cook duiring that Leviathan shit to seduce me with food", Bobby clarified. "I guess he succeed."

Fergus snorted. "I always know you were only after a free meal", he fakely pouted.

Bobby smirked. "Well, I wouldn't say  _only_ …" His hand moved behind Fergus back, and by the happy squeak the ex-demon made Castiel guessed that the old hunter had just pinched his butt.

Dean started to look little green, and Sam cleared his throat noisily. "Bobby, please, spare us; this is still all new for us – to see you in relationship, I mean, not that you're with a, um, man, though that's new too… but it's not bad, not at all! It's just… well, new."

Bobby rubbed his temple. "Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Please shut up."

Sam blushed. "Of course, Bobby."

"You were just digging yourself deeper with the every word you were saying in there."

"Yes. Sorry."

The old hunter sighed. "See, you two: I understand that the situation may be strange to you. But it's like Fergus said: I'm not growing any younger here. And I'm tired of having to hide my relationship for the sake of your delicate feelings; it's not fair, neither for me  _or_  for Fergus." At this point, he gave a smile for the ex-demon, who stared at him eyes wide and with the kind of expression on his face that Castiel couldn't even start to interpret. There was perplex in there, and hope, and happiness, and so many other feelings that the angel felt little overwhelming just because of witnessing them.

"I know that Fergus had made a lot of shitty things", Bobby continued, "and probably even more those that I don't know about. I haven't forgotten all the harm he's done, nor am I trying to justify his past actions. But this idjit" he pointed at Fergus, "just made something very stupid and very dangerous just because he wanted to be sure of his feelings towards me. And even though I don't approve it, I can appreciate the gesture. I'm a cranky old man with no fashion taste or understanding towards the finer liquors, and who rather spends his evenings at home with a good book than at the opera or any other places like that; but for some reason, he has decided to stay, and for that, I owe him more than just a role as my "dirty little secret". Because I love him, and for that, I want him to stay. With me; as long as he likes. And you boys just need to learn to deal with that."

After that confession, no-one know what to say; everybody just shuffled their feet and tried to avoid looking anyone in the eyes, excluding Fergus, who seemed like he would start to cry at the any moment now. Castiel could judge by the look of Bobby's face that it hadn't been easy for him to tell them all that, and felt his respect towards the old hunter grow for it.

Finally Fergus sniffled and said with a little wavering voice, "Dammit, Bobby. Don't you dare to say any other word, because if you do, I'll start to cry, and then I can never forgive you for making me do that in front of Winchesters, you brute." But he smiled while saying that, smiled so genuinely and happily that now at last it became clear of just how much Fergus had really changed. He wasn't the same demon who Castiel had encountered while retrieving Dean's soul from Hell, and in no way had all the changes came from the un-intentionally successful curing rite; it had started long before that, or then all this had always been there, and just became apparent when Fergus first decided that he  _wanted_  this change to happen.

Bobby snorted. "Of course."

Fergus tossed his head. "Enough of the drama… I'll go and see what I can put together of that poor excuse of a basic food supply these two have in their kitchen…"

Bobby nodded. "Just give me a shout if you need me to pick up something from the grocery store."

"How sweet of you; I think that I'll survive. But you  _could_  take Growley and Juliet for a walk before there happens any… accident", Fergus said pointedly.

"Yeah, you should", Dean said hastily, probably thinking about the mount of waste two gigantic hounds could left behind.

"I can help you with the meal if…" Sam offered to Fergus, most out of courtesy than any true want of spend any time alone with the ex-demon.

Fergus huffed. "No thanks; you can keep digging the lore. Castiel, you come with me."

Castiel's head shot up. "Me?"

"Why him?" Dean asked. It sounded like he wasn't sure if he should left them two alone, for whatever reason Castiel couldn't comprehend.

Fergus apparently could, since he snorted. "At ease, tiger! I'm not going to yell at him or even shake too badly. I know that Feathers here did best he could to keep me alive, and even if I'm not completely happy with the results – I mean, feelings! How can you get anything done with all these mulling up in your heads? – I'm not going to complain about my survival. It just seemed that the angel wanted to talk with me, so I'm offering a change for that."

This seemed to settle Dean, since he nodded at Fergus and turned towards Castiel. "See?" he said with a smile and patted the angel's shoulder reassuringly. "I told you it would be just fine."

Castiel wasn't so sure, but he smiled back at Dean before following Fergus out of the room.

* * *

Even if Fergus had been the one who indicated this private time, once he and Castiel arrived to the kitchen and the door was shut behind them, he suddenly had no idea how to start talking. He didn't felt quite like himself, or at last that version himself as he was used to feel like, sarcastic, suave and always in control. This strange rift between him and the angel was bothering him more than he wanted to confess, and the sad stare of those baby-blue puppy-dog eyes made him consider of doing something stupid, like hug Castiel or at least ruffle his hair a bit.

_Damn these feelings_ , he thought scornfully.  _I hope I'll get these under of control sooner rather than later, or I'll go bonkers…_

Finally he decided just flow with it, start to prepare the meal and hope that either Castiel would be the one who spilled his beans first or he would get some inspiration along the way.

"Let's see…" he said and took a look in the fridge, "we've some vegetables… carrots, potatoes… few eggs… a bit of ham and cheese… bacon… Damn, these two really life solely by burgers, don't they…?"

"Is there anything you can make out of these?" Castiel asked.

"Hum… I think I could manage to do some stuffed potatoes in the oven", Fergus said to him as he closed the fridge and started to go through the cabinets. "They should be substantial enough, if we also fry some bread for a dessert to go with it… Now what about spices. Salt at least is granted, but I think it could be too much to ask for them to have any nutmeg… Then what about pepper… Hah, here we go!" he shouted triumphantly after finding what he was looking for.

"What should I do?"

Fergus looked at him. "You could wash the potatoes, at first." At the angel's clueless look, he sighed and added, "Don't worry; I'll show you how…"

* * *

"Now dice those bacon slices while I scoop out these potatoes. Then we make a mash of the core with egg yolks and butter, mix in bacon and grated cheese and carrot, add some salt and pepper, restuff the potatoes, sprinkle little more cheese and butter on the top, and these are all ready for the oven!"

Castiel was surprised of how much Fergus seemed to enjoy cooking; as he himself didn't care about food (unlike Aziraphale, he hadn't learned to taste the food in a same way as humans did), he didn't see anything alluring about all this washing and cutting and grating that was going on, but Fergus seemed happy and relaxed, and was even humming every once and while.

"Then we can to slice the bread and fry them on a pan; too bad we don't have any icing sugar or yam, but they'll taste just nice simply with honey, too…"

"Did you really start to cook only because of Bobby?" Castiel asked suddenly. "Because to me, it seems like you're enjoying this little too much for it to be just that…"

Fergus was quiet for a moment, but it didn't feel like he was bothered by the question; more likely he was thinking of how to put his words so that Castiel would understand what he meant with them.

"When I was a kid in Scotland", he finally started, "food was always scarce. Even when I grew up… You learned to appreciate what you had, even if it was only a porridge, three times at day. Then I met father, and… Well you've seen how obsessed he and Az are with a good meals. Once I raised in the ranks of Hell, there was no longer any limits in where I ate, no matter how expensive place it was – but it had no feeling in it. I kept missing that porridge my wife used to make, or the meals I ate once I was still a apprentice in my master's house. Because, you see, the thing with food is that it's almost always about  _memories_. Feelings. Were the foods I ate back when I was alive better than those I can eat nowadays? Absolutely not. But back then I still knew what it felt to be hungry. What it felt when someone offered you a just baked bread, with a gentle smile and smudge of flour on their cheek…" Fergus seemed to fall under his memories. "Her name was Mary. It's been so long since I last time thought what she looked like…" He shook his head. "Anyways; when I met Bobby… At first, it was probably out of curiosity. And because he was a good kisser, though that wasn't the most important factor, no matter what I might tell to him. But he made me want to…  _feel_  again. Something, anything. And it irritated me cause I didn't know why and I decided to spend more time with him so that I could figure it out, and – well, food seemed just as good start as any other."

Castiel wasn't sure what he should think about Fergus being this open with him, telling personal things without really being even prompted to it. It would have been lie to say that he wasn't pleased of it; but at the same time he was sure that this was after effect of the cure and later Fergus would be horrified of how much he'd let out duiring his moment of weakness.

The ex-demon seemed to know what he was thinking, because he said, "Of course I expect that none of this will be repeated outside of this room; I know I'm having little difficulty to handle my mouth right now."

"I'll keep your secrets", Castiel promised. "… I think the ham is now diced as you wanted."

Fergus gave a look and nodded. "Not bad. I'll do the mash; you can step aside for a while."

Castiel watched Fergus' working. "I'm sorry", he said.

Fergus sighed. "For what? If it's about the cure, I already told you that I understand. You did what could."

"But you still didn't want this. And if I hadn't participated altogether, then maybe…"

Fergus groaned out of frustration and turned around, spreading his arms. "Fine; come here." Since Castiel just stared him, totally dump struck, he groaned again and said, "Stop making this any more awkward than this already is, Feathers! Now come here."

Hesitantly, Castiel stepped forward, and was gathered into a little stiff embrace.

"It's okay, Castiel", Fergus offered and patted his back nervously.

The fact that the demon was going this far to reassure him, even while he seemed to abhor any physical contact that wasn't either sexual or a joke (or a sexual kind of joke) and was even hesitant to let his own father to occasionally hug him, make Castiel feel like something was going to burst inside of him. His arms that had hanged on his side came up to answer the hug.

Fergus chuckled. "What are you weeping for, silly angel?" he asked.

"I'm not", Castiel denied, even though he could feel tears leaking from his eyes.

Fergus hummed, but didn't say a thing.

"I was worried", Castiel continued after a while; "worried that you would not recognize me any more after waking up. Or that you would had changed so drastically that you no longer weren't the same person. I…"

"Yes, yes; well, I am still here so can you please stop bawling your eyes out", the ex-demon said, clearly trying to sound surly but not really succeeding in it.

Castiel laughed; it wasn't particularly happy laugh, but it as enough to make him feel better.

Fergus released him and continued his cooking. "Tomorrow I'll send Bobby to do some grocery shopping; and then I'll teach you how to bake a pie", he said airily.

"Why so?"

The ex-demon smirked quite devilishly. "Well, isn't it said that the easiest road to man's heart goes through his stomach?" he leered. "And I happen to know that if there's any weakness in Dean Winchester – well, actually he has so many that I wouldn't even know where to begin to describe them, but in this case, let's say that he has only one that's any useful for your purposes – and that's a good piece of pie."

Castiel felt his face got heater and avoided Fergus cunning gaze. "I have no idea what you're talking about", he said stiffly.

"Oh,  _right_. I  _so_  believe you, baby brother."

It took them both a moment to register just what Fergus had called Castiel, and the silence that followed was nervous.

Then Castiel opened his mouth. "I think you're mistaken.  _I'm_  the older one. You can be that sassy younger brother."

Fergus snorted. "Are you trying to bunch me up in the same group with Moose here? Forget it. Besides, such a naïve airhead as you needs a streetwise older brother to keep you in check."

"I thought I already had Aziraphale for that."

"I said  _streetwise_ , Castiel, not a  _bookworm_ , there's a difference."

The banter could have continued like that almost endlessly, had not knock on the door interrupted them. The door creaked open and Dean's head peaked in. "Sorry to cut in, but… You should both come out and see this. It can't be put on words."

They followed Dean outside of the bunker, where Sam and Bobby already waited them. The hellhounds stood on guard in both sides on Bobby, their hackles raised and growling lowly.

"Hey, what's going on –" Fergus started, but Dean just lifted his hand to point at the sky. Castiel and Fergus followed his gesture with their eyes and saw… "Oh. Damn."

Sky was full of lights that were falling down; lights that resembled flaming meteors, but were everything but.

"Angels", Castiel whispered, and felt his heart clench violently, "angels are falling…"

"Yeah, but – why? And how? And why does this happen now, when we're in enough shit already?" Dean said.

But Castiel had and idea of what could be causing this; or, more likely,  _who_  could be the one behind this.

"I…", he said, standing before them as they all turned towards him, feeling himself smaller, weaker and stupider than ever before, "I… think there's something I should tell to all of you…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The food Fergus is preparing is called Ardennes Potatoes... It was first food that came to my mind when I started to think about someting with a very little incrediences mixed in it but which would still look a little more "classy" than simple omelet or so...


	5. No Secret's Allowed in This Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean doesn't like it when his angel is keeping things hidden from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little shorter chapter this time; I actually had written this on half-way before checking few things from the last chapter of Angelic Family, and then I had to almost completely re-wrote everything I'd written so far... but I hope that all inconsistencys got cleaned away.

It took some time before Castiel had a change to sit down and explain what happened between him and Metatron to his friends. First, Fergus wanted to make a call to his father and check out if they'd noticed the strange occurrence (they haven't witnessed it, but Aziraphale had got a strange feeling apparently at the same time as the angels had started to fall from the sky and had have to lay down for a while; Anthony had actually been planning to call them himself just before Fergus called him), and after making sure that they were both okay he decided that they should eat first.

"Because who knows if any of us have any appetite left after Castiel finishes his story", the ex-demon commented once Dean tried to resist.

The meal was digested in silence that was nothing sort of comfortable. Dean had first looked the food on his plate with poorly disguised distrust, before taking a bite, and ended up eating both his  _and_  Castiel's share. Castiel, who of course didn't eat, kept fidgeting with a napkin that he'd picked up from the table (seeing the napkins had made both Dean and Sam to raise their eyebrows near of the hairline, while Bobby had just sat down and glared at them till they got the clue and followed his example), and hoped that his confession wouldn't cause a new rift in their midst. But how should he'd guess that Metatron would find a way to complete his mission while under Heaven's watchful eye…?

Finally Bobby stood up and started to gather the now empty plates. "Come on, boys; since they cooked, we're doing the dishes."

"Fine", Dean mumbled, and then shot a serious look at Castiel. "You wait right there, Cass; we'll listen your story as soon as we've gotten this done."

Sam gave him an encouraging smile before followed Dean and Bobby, leaving Castiel to sit alone with Fergus; the ex-demon was absentmindedly twirling a drop of wine in his glass, and Castiel could almost hear how the gears clicked and turned inside of his brains while he thought all possibilities of what the current even would cause to the world – or to that tiny part of it that he considered as his. The angel half expected that Fergus would start to demand some answers right away, but right now he seemed content to wait, for what Castiel was thankful: he didn't want to explain the whole things twice.

"So", Dean called, and when Castiel turned to look at him he found the hunters walking back towards them, "dishes are finished. Time to spill it."

"Are we going to have talk  _here_ , in the kitchen?" Fergus asked. "Wouldn't your fancy operating room be better for that?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, since we can all fit in here just as well…"

The ex-demon glared at him. "This is already the second time we're holding a strategy meeting in kitchen. This should be a place for  _relaxation_ , you know."

"So is that what this is going to be?" Bobby asked from him. "Strategy meeting?"

Fergus shrugged. "I think that that is what will  _follow_  after Feathers has finished his story."

" _Please_ ", Castiel interrupted him, "I – I really need to explain this right now." Fergus huffed, but made a gesture with his empty hand which Castiel assumed meaning "go on". He took a deep breath to ease his nerves, and started talking. "This happened while I was living with Aziraphale; you probably remember", he said while nodding to Dean, "when I told you about me helping Heaven to arrest an angel called Metatron? Well, it  _might_  be that I left some  _minor_  details out of that story…"

* * *

Dean rubbed his forehead somewhat furiously. There was this specific kind of headache that he was considering to name as "I've had enough this shit, where's my beer?", but since it was kind of mouthful, he decided to wait if something better would come up.

While he'd already known the part of that that story, the new information about Metatron's (and he still was sure that name like that shouldn't exist anywhere outside Transformers, no matter how Sam argued about it) true plans made cold shivers run down of his back. As for others, it looked like no one of them had heard about this before (and normally he would have cherished the fact that Cass had told him something before mentioning it to Crowley, but now wasn't time for that), and they were looking at Cass with various mixtures of worry, disappointment and anger (the last mostly on Crowley's case, and could he really be blamed for that?).

And what came to Castiel himself… He kept staring pleadingly at Dean's eyes, and  _damn_ those puppy-dog eyes of his…! He was clearly waiting Dean's reaction, even while all the others had just as much right to give him a piece of mind – especially Crowley, whose father had very much stumbled over that dead cupid practically on his doorstep – but for some reason they were all waiting him to go first.

"So, let's see if I got this right", he finally said with exasperated voice; "Last time, you told me you met this angel – who you, by the way, didn't even recognize by then (seriously, Cass, never heard about stranger danger?), and decided to not mention it to anybody – but later found out was some kind of serial killer, and called to your old buddies in Heaven the help you to set a trap for him."

"Yes, I did. But –"

Dean held his hand to the air to ask silence. "Now you're telling me, that this angel, the  _Scribe of God_ , was actually trying to fulfill some kind of mambo jumbo trial to give all the angels in Heaven a "lesson", as he called it, and  _tried to took off your Grace!_ "

"Yes, and I know I should have told you earlier, but he failed and didn't see reason to worry you about some diabolic scheme that didn't even carry on while you already had so much on your plate –"

"NOT THE POINT, Cass! The point is that a homicidal angel almost stole your Grace, and you didn't see it important enough to even mention it to" - ( _me_ ) – "us!" Dean shouted.

Castiel frowned in the same way like he always did, and argued, "I don't understand why that would have been relevant, he failed because my garrison…"

"… Game to help  _only_  after he'd already hit you with whatever spell he did! What if they hadn't been there in time? You'd lost you Grace, or worse!"

"Dean…"

"You could had died, Cass!"

Castiel kept frowning at him before turned his head to look at the others. Sam shrugged apologetically and said, "He got the point, you know. That was very irresponsible decision, given that you're not actually the most liked angel in Heaven currently."

Bobby didn't say anything, and Crowley just scoffed, "Let him roast your ears, Feathers; I'll put my two cents in later." But anyone could have seen that the ex-demon didn't seem overly furious, and even a little sympathetic, which made Dean once again register how close their ex-nemesis had become with his angel…

Wait, what? His – No, no, no! Cass, he meant, not his angel, Cass wasn't – oh, crap.

Castiel was talking again. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't want to worry you –" he stopped suddenly, worrying his lip between his teeth for a second before continuing, "No, that's not the real truth. The thing is… I messed up, badly, with the Leviathans. With the whole Purgatory thing. And I… felt like there was something that I had to prove, as much to myself as to you; prove that I could still handle things, that I don't always just mess things up. And it wasn't wise, and it's true that I should have told at least to Aziraphale and Anthony, since they were put in danger too just by hosting me, but… I'm so sorry", he repeated, this time looking at Crowley, who stared back with unimpressed look before sighing and rubbing his neck.

"I'm not saying you're out of woods yet, but… I can understand why you left father and Az out of this. Heck,  _I_  leave them out of any funny business most of the time; they're such a worrywarts, they would feel that they needed to do something and there's an actual reason for their retirement in the first place!"

Cass tilted his head. "But… if you aren't angry at me for endangering them, then why…" Suddenly the angels face brightened a bit. "Oh. You mean… you're angry because I put  _myself_  –"

" _Aaaand_  I think that Dean hadn't yet finished yelling at you", Crowley interrupted quickly.

Dean wasn't sure what was the emotion that made his stomach tightening a bit because of the happy expression on the Cass face being caused by Crowley's almost confession of being worried of the angel's health, but it reminded him alarmingly of jealousy and so he decided to not think about it right now.  _They're brothers, for God's sake!_  he reminded himself, not sure why he needed that reminder or why he should be jealous in the first place, since he and Cass were just friends, and you aren't supposed to be jealous at your friend's friends; that was more like a couple thing, and he and Cass weren't… They weren't…

_Oh, dammit!_

He needed this conversation to be over so that he could concentrate to that worrying puddle of feelings that had formed its way inside of him and which seemed to gravitate around Cass… He took a deep breath before continuing his speech,

"I'm losing the focus here… See, Cass", he said, putting his hands on the angel's shoulders and shaking him just a bit, for a good measure, "there's absolutely  _nothing_  for you to prove to  _anyone_. You're part of our group, no,  _our family_ , and an important part too; I…  _we_  wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here, so… Don't go keeping information like that on us anymore, okay? Just… don't."

Well, it didn't sound as good as he'd hoped, but…

"Well, that sounded absolutely uncoherent. You really aren't any good with anything that goes with putting more than two words together?"

Crowley, of course.

"Shut up, you", Dean said with no heat behind his words; because if Cass was a family, then Crowley was too, and  _not_  just because he was with Bobby, which still made Dean little uneasy but mostly just because he'd never thought there would be any  _step-mother(dad?)-figure_  to match together with their father-figure.

"Testy, testy", Crowley singsonged.

Sam raised his voice. "So, um… what are we going to do about this?"

"Why don't we just take care of that bitch Abaddon first and think about this later?" Crowley shot back.

"Well, since we already have a plan to take out Abaddon in process, I think we could at least give a little thought to this problem too", Sam quickly pacified.

Bobby looked Castiel. "You said that Metatron wanted to "teach angel's a lesson"… Well, seems to me like he nailed that pretty spectacularly. Then he went on how he planned to restore Heaven to Its previous glory… Got any specifics of how he's planning to manage that?"

Cass shook his head. "No. I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey!" Dean said. "Not your fault. Got it?"

Sam tapped his chin thoughtfully. "From what you said, he didn't seem to be overly bothered by his arrest… Maybe getting to Heaven was already on his to-do list?"

Crowley nodded. "Plausible. Anyone got any ideas of what spell could make all the angels to fall down like that, then?"

Sam shook his head. "Absolutely none. All we know is that he needed for it the Nephilim's heart and the Cupid's bow, and he tried to steal Castiel's Grace before got arrested… So he maybe found an angel in Heaven who volunteered to give up theirs…?"

Castiel shuddered violently. "No; no angel would do that", he countered.

"So probably he stole it, then", Dean suggested.

Bobby looked at Crowley. "You think that your parents would know anything; either about the spell or Metatron's plans? They at least knew him, once…"

Crowley already had a phone in his hand before Bobby finished his sentence. "Just a moment, darling."

They waited with anticipation as Crowley waited his father to answer. "Why is this taking this long… Well, about time. Hey, it's - oh. Aziraphale? Why are you answering to my father's cellphone?" They could see ex-demon's eyes go wide as he listened the reply. "What you mean, you have a situation on? Wait, I'm putting this on speaker…"

Soon Aziraphale's voice reached to their ears. There were loud, crashing noises coming from background, like something heavy was thrown or pushed down in there. "Dear, as I said, this is not a good moment – You put that down right away! – you see, we were just going through my archive when this man rushed in and tried to douse my Anthony with Holy Water –"

"He WHAT?!" Crowley screeched. Bobby put immediately a hand over his shoulder. "Is he alright? Heck, is he even alive?!"

"– No, you won't – I'm sorry, dear, I was interrupted; I managed to get between them so the water never hit on Anthony, and he only seemed to have one flask of it, but now he's – NO! Not that book, its first edition of – Now he's wrecking the whole place! And I – I think that he might actually be an angel, a former one, at least…"

"An angel!" Crowley cried out.

"It's okay though, he doesn't seem to have any powers!" Aziraphale continued hurriedly. "And that's the strangest thing – No matter how deep I look, I can't find an ounce of Grace from him…"

In the kitchen, they all looked at each other's. It was Sam who talked next. "Aziraphale? It's me, Sam. We think we might know what has happened to him. Can you… Can you maybe bring him hear? There's things we need to ask…"

"With pleasure!" Aziraphale answered acerbically, which might have been little out of character but understandable after someone broke in his home, attacked his lover, and was now destroying his bookshelves. "I would have sent him straight away to a South Pole, had he not been a family member… Here!"

And just like that, there was a new person standing in their kitchen, staring at them with bewildered eyes.


	6. Gadreel Steps on the Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gadreel lets off some steam.

The first thing that followed after the stranger's (Graceless angel?) sudden appear in their kitchen was a silence so deep that Sam could swear that if someone had happened to drop a pin right then, it would have sounded as loud as a dropping of an axe. They all stared at the stranger, who stared back with wide, wild eyes.

Of course, the silence wasn't long-lived. The man's eyes found kitchen knife near the sink, and he went to grip it… and before anyone had time to react, there was a rumbling growl and sharp nails clicking against the floor and a shout, when stranger was pushed down by the snarling Hellhound – at least that's what Sam gathered, being unable to see the beast.

Dean was on his feet under a second. "Hey, wow wow wow! Take it easy, pal! Crowley, call your hound off!"

"Are you sure that that's wise?" the ex-demon asked. "I mean, he tried to attack my father…" he added and looked the man struggling on the floor with scornful eyes.

"Growley, step back!" Bobby barked suddenly. And then, as the stranger crawled farther from the spot where he'd been, seemingly released from the pressure of Hellhound's body, he added, "Good boy", like it was the world's most natural thing that he'd right to command Crowley's beasts.

_Then again, maybe it is…_

"You okay?" Dean asked from the stranger and took a step closer of him. That made the man to almost jump backwards and hit his head against the counter. "Hey, take it easy! I just wanted to see if he bite you or something…"

"That's Hellhound", the man said, sounding little hysteric – not that Sam could blame him for that. "A Hellhound. You've got Hellhound in your kitchen."

"It's okay", Sam said with pacifying voice as he too stood up. "He wont harm you – at least as long as you wont try to hurt anyone here", he then added quickly as Crowley huffed impatiently. He tried to not think of what it implied that both he and Dean had started to refer the Hellhound – Growley – as  _he_ , instead of  _it_.

Excluding his ragged appearance, the man seemed to have survived from Growley's attack without a scratch. The Hellhound had clearly meant to only subdue, not to maim – at least as long as he wasn't commanded to do otherwise.

Cass came to stand beside Dean and stared the man with thoughtful eyes. Then he took a step back, as if stricken. "Aziraphale was right", the angel said with distressed voice. "He indeed is one of my brothers – but he has no Grace. None at all."

At that, the man let out a yell like a wounded animal and was right on his feet, making an attempt to attack Castiel – whom Dean pushed behind himself like it was the most natural thing to do (and what could be counted as natural in nowadays, anymore?) – only to be blocked by unseen barrier which Sam supposed was Growley standing between them.

"Good puppy", Dean complimented. When Sam turned to look at him with one eyebrow lifted, he shrugged and said, "What can I say? He's growing to me."

Sam shook his head and turned back towards the man struggling to get pass the Hellhound. "We mean no harm to you", he said soothingly. "We just want to know what happened to you. Maybe we can help you…"

The man let out a bitter bark of a laugh. "Help me? I can't be helped!"

"You cannot know for sure. Believe me, we have done things that no-one thought that was possible before, and…"

The man smirked resentfully. "Yes, the Winchesters… Believe me, even  _I_  have been informed of your escapades…"

It sounded little strange… like the man – former angel – was the last person to whom any information was provided to. Castiel apparently heard the slip too, since he frowned slightly and moved slowly from behind of Dean to once again stand beside him, his eyes penetrating as he gazed the stranger. Sam also saw that Dean had moved his arm around Castiel's waist as if to keep him close in case that the man would try to attack the angel again. It was awfully sweet, and Sam really hoped that Dean would pierce his act together soon, since it was becoming clear to anyone and their mother to how much those to cared about each other.

But now was not the right time to think about his brothers love-life.

"Please", Sam said, "Could you at least tell us your name? And then maybe sit down. We've just eaten recently, but I could make a sandwich… You must be hungry, right?" Because and angel without Grace couldn't be much different than what human was, and wasn't there a time once when Cass had almost lost all his powers and had needed to eat and rest like they all did (and kind of became an alcoholic in the process, but that was whole different can of worms)…?

The man said nothing and his eyes bounced from Sam to Dean and Cass, then to Growley and from there to Bobby and Crowley and finally back to Cass. His hands clenched on his sides, formed a tight fists before relaxing again. Then he sighed and sagged a little. "Sandwich. Please", he said with exhausted voice.

Sam nodded quickly. "Yes, of course. Please, sit down", he said and gestured towards the table, and after moments hesitation, the man complied.

* * *

"So", Dean said as they all once again were sitting down around the table, and the Graceless angel had just finished his second sandwich and was looking hopefully the third one until Sam pushed the whole plate before him, "You never told us your name."

The man went rigid and dropped the sandwich he'd just picked up; there was delighted bark and the bread vanished from the floor, followed by Crowley's admonishing "Juliet!"

"I'm, ah… Ezekiel", the former angel said.

It was so clearly a lie that even Castiel picked it up. "No, you aren't."

"Yeah, right", Dean said. "Could you try that again?"

If stares could kill, Dean would probably have uttered a prayer for his mortal soul, but now he just stared back at the former angels eyes.

Finally the angel was the one who had to look away. "Why do you ask?" he spit out. "What does it matter, anymore?"

Crowley shrugged. "Because while while calling you something like "hey you there" certainly has it perks, it would probably grow old all too soon."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, what he said… I think."

The man glared them both. "Then, with pained voice, he finally gritted out, "Gadreel. My name's… Gadreel."

Crowley frowned. "Now why does that sound so familiar…?"

Meanwhile, Castiel had went pale and stared at he former angel his eyes wide. "Gadreel… the angel of Western Gate!"

Now it was Dean's turn to frown. "The angel of what now?"

"You mean… as in Western Gate of Eden's? Like Aziraphale is the angel of Eastern Gate?" Sam clarified.

Castiel nodded. "Yes. I… I had no idea." He looked at the former angel with eyes full of pity and sorrow. "I was so sure that you'd perished."

Gadreel snorted. "As if they would have been that merciful", he spat bitterly, raising his enraged eyes to meet Castiel's. "No… Instead they they kept me in the prison. Thousands of years… ever since the Fall of Man…! Contained withing the small cell, with no hope of redemption… Scorned and punished, day after day… All because of ONE LITTLE MISTAKE…!"

"Could SOMEONE here explain this so that we mere mortals would be able to understand, too?" Bobby said with irritation.

Castiel and Gadreel shared a look, and then Cass started to explain. "After Eve ate the apple, the Heaven wanted someone to punish… to make an example of. And since Father had already sent Aziraphale away – and most of angels saw that as a banishment, and thusly a horrible punishment, though I now think that that was never his intend -, they were left with Gadreel."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Typical. So they decided to use him as a scapegoat?"

Castiel evaded their eyes. "It's… little more than just that, actually. You see… Gadreel… Gadreel was the one who let the snake in the Garden." Crowley let out a low hiss, sounding little bit like his father for once, but did not interrupt as Cass continued, "Their rage was… uncontrollable. They put Gadreel on blame about everything: the Fall of Man, and our Father leaving so soon afterwards…" He looked at Gadreel with pained eyes, even while the other angel refused to meet his gaze. "I'm so sorry, brother… I never… Even after I realized how corrupted Heaven had became, I never paid no heed of who was kept in the prison…"

Gadreel stared at the table as he started to talk, venom dripping from every word he uttered out; "You forgot me, like almost all did… And those who remembered – No, I wont say more about it! …And then, one day, Metatron was bought to the cell beside mine…"

Sam looked at him with eyes full of sympathy. "And he promised to help you out, didn't he?"

Gadreel laughed hauntingly. "Out…? No – He promised me a REVENGE!" He his the table with his fist, so hard that Dean wouldn't be surprised if there were bruising afterwards. "He even told me the location where to find that  _treacherous snake_ … But then he stole my Grace! He stole my Grace, and left me stranded on this ball of mud! I still tried to take my revenge over  _the snake_ …"

"So that's when you attacked my father!" Crowley hissed out.

Gadreel turned instantly to look at him. "Your father…?!" He seemed ready to jump over the table to throttle Crowley, and even though Dean had had similar thought every now and then, at this point it was neither called or deserved.

"Crowley, shut up", Dean said, "and you, Gadreel, would be better remember that there's a Hellhounds sitting on both sides of you, and they'll be ready to rip you in pieces if you make a one wrong move towards their owner."

Gadreel stared at him and then at Castiel, his eyes disapproving. "What is this? First Aziraphale and now you… fraternizing with demons, our sworn enemies…!"

"From were I'm looking this, we 'demons' have more honor than your Heavenly flock of shitless eunuchs… or did you already forgot just  _who_  put you on that jail for all the eternity…?" Crowley said with bored voice.

"That was the snake's fault in the first place!" Gadreel shouted.

"And had he, or – even better – Aziraphale had any idea that you were kept in prisoner, they probably would have come to bust you out of there a long time ago!" Crowley shouted back.

"Okay, time out!" Bobby said. He stood up and holding Crowley's arm pulled him up with him. "Let's walk a bit. You guys finis up with the other hot-head, right?" he said, before dragging Crowley out of the kitchen.

There was a momentum silence after the pair left before Sam cleared his throat and continued, "So… what are your plans, now?"

Gadreel glared them all. "Why should I tell that to you?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, we got a common enemy in Metatron… We could help each other."

Gadreel smirked laconically. "So I should work with you, huh? While you're collaborating with demon that ruined my life and his… spawn? Forget it."

Castiel opened his mouth. "Can you at least tell us about the spell Metatron was using? We're trying to found a way to reverse it."

Gadreel snorted. "Why would I want that? In my point-of-view, they got what they deserved…"

"Yeah? And what about Metatron? Don't you want your Grace back?" Dean insisted.

Gadreel eyes flared with rage. "My Grace is  _gone_ , you fool! How could I  _get back_  something that has been used!? And what comes to Metatron… I'll find my way to finish him off… WITHOUT your  _aid_ ", he ended with a sneer.

Dean opened his mouth to argument, but closed it as he saw Sam shaking his head.

"We understand", Sam said. "We just… Do you have a place to go? Or any money, at all? What are you planning to do, if you get hungry?"

Gadreel looked at him with distrust before shrugging. "I'll figure it out… Somehow."

"Can we at least give you a phone? So that you can call, if… if you happened to change your mind? Or need any help, at all… And rest of the sandwiches, of course", Sam insisted.

Gadreel squirmed on his seat. "And why would you do that for me?"

Sam shrugged. "Because, in our point-of-view, you've suffered more than enough already. I seriously doubt that taking revenge would do you any good – especially since Anthony – the snake – is truly not that bad person, even while compared to many  _not_ -Fallen angels that we've met… But we can see why you might think that you're justified to take that said revenge."

Gadreel was quiet for a moment before nodding. "I… appreciate that", he said, sounding lot calmer now if not disheartened. "I'll take the phone… but I'm NOT changing my mind", he said with little more determination.

"I understand", Sam reassured him. "But… If there's anything,  _anything_  at all you're ready to share… please give us a call."

* * *

After that, it didn't take a long before Gadreel left the bunker, with backpack full of sandwiches, new phone and little money with him.

Fergus wasn't exactly happy with that. "I'm still thinking that it would have been best if we'd just thrown him into a cell till we know what to do with him", the ex-demon grumbled.

Castiel sighed. "Don't you think that he has already spent enough time in a prison?"

"He threw my father with Holy Water!"

"I'm sure he wont try it again", Castiel tried to placate.

Fergus snorted. "Whatever… but if he makes even a one wrong move towards my father, I'll kill him… And I'll hold  _you_  as a guilty party if and  _when_  that happens!"

Castiel nodded. "I know you will."  _I just hope you don't have to…_

Fergus hummed a bit and then yawned. "What is it, already…? I'll need to get Bobby to the bed, old men go grumpy if they don't get enough sleep…"

Castiel smiled slightly. "I thought he's  _always_  grumpy…"

"All more reason, then!" Fergus answered as he started to walk away. "We wouldn't want him to become even  _more_  grumpy, would we now…? And talking about grumpy hunters, I think that yours would need some rest, too…"

Without turning to look after him, Castiel shook his head with a good measure. "Good night, brother."

He was happy to hear Fergus' voice uttering somewhere behind him before the ex-demon left the room, "Same for you… brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gadreel might seem little OCC, but in SPN he was originally trying to pass as Ezekiel, and didn't thusly behave according his own feelings; besides, he's just lost his Grace, and missed and opportunity for his revenge, so all things considering I would be suprised if he would be acting all calm and controlled here... And this in AU, anyway - I do what I want.


	7. Meanwhile in London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Anthony find a strange book, and two persons share some apples in Lower Taddfield.

After getting his nerves soothed with a cup of tea, Aziraphale had to admit that he could have handled the situation with little more courtesy, seeing how desperate the graceless angel had been. But then again, not only had the stranger wrecked his shop (which already was an unforgivable crime on it's own), he'd also shaken up his poor Anthony so badly that the fallen was still hiding under the sofa in his snake form, and so far had given no signs of coming out of there any soon. The Holy Water was really his Achilles' heel, and even more after he'd used it to liquefie Ligur, which must had been really horrifying sight to witness, not that Anthony had been the most braves fellow to the begin with.

Finally Aziraphale had to admit his failure and just let the demon be, while he went to re-organize his books. Of course he'd promised to Fergus and his friends to look out for something that could help them to find his sword, but certainly this was far more urgent matter…

Maybe two hours passed by before he saw Anthony's (snake)head peaking out from under the sofa.

"You could offer a helping hand here, dear", he said to the demon.

"Ssssorry, no handsssssss", Anthony smart-assed, but then crawled all the way out and changed back to his more human-shaped form. He sat down right beside Aziraphale and put his head on the angel's shoulder. Az patted his cheek affectionately before turning his concentration back to his work.

After a while Anthony took one book, checked it out and put it on the pile of books that were marked as "prophesies, inaccurate, fifteenth century", before picking up another one. Aziraphale smiled but didn't comment, and they continued their work in silence.

* * *

They completely forgot the existence of time, and so the sun set down on the rest and was already starting to rise again behind the windows when Anthony finally stood up, stretched his body in a way that would have not been possible to any human, and said, "All done! We should treat ourselves with a – is it breakfast? Already? – in someplace nice… What would you say about that coffee shop that sells those great bagels?"

Aziraphale smiled as he too stood up and took a look around his shop before answering, "That sounds like a wonderful idea, my dear."

Anthony turned towards the door when he stopped in a middle of a step after seeing a corner of a book peaking out under the rug. "Ugh, one more…", he muttered sullenly, and reached down to pick up the offensive item. Behind him, Aziraphale let out a squeaking noise, making Anthony turn to look at him with one eyebrow lifted in questioning manner. "What is it, angel?"

Aziraphale was curiously red on his face as he answered, "You… you really should not do that…!"

"Like do what?"

"To… to reach down like that!" the angel answered, while getting even more flustered.

It still took Anthony a few seconds to catch up, and then he grinned positively devilishly. "Awww, angel… were you checking me out~?"

"Of course I wasn't", Aziraphale denied with a huff while refusing to meet the demon's eyes.

"You were, you totally were~!" Anthony singsonged. "Maybe you were even planning to put some  _effort_  on it…?"

"Do shut up, you… you demon!"

Anthony laughed at the angel's scandalized expression and went to press a kiss in the corner of Aziraphale's mouth. "It's okay, Az… I check out you too, sometimes…"

Now Aziraphale looked at him straight in the eyes. "You do? Like when?"

Anthony shrugged. "Sometimes… Let's now find a place for this book so that we can go to pick up some bagels…"

They looked at the book that Anthony had found. It was a thin one, with black, worn-out leather covers; and inside of them…

"Um, angel?"

"...Yes, dear?"

"Since when do you have started to collect grimoires?"

"I... wasn't aware that I had…"

Anthony scratched his head. "Then where has this came from…?" He flipped few pages forward, and came to the page that had been bookmarked. "What the-? Well, at least I'm sure that  _this_  wasn't you doing", he said and turned the book so that the angel could see; on the top of the page, someone had wrote with a black marker "A customized tracking spell to trace items with Holy aura", and even underlined it  _twice_.

Aziraphale blinked his eyes. "Well, they couldn't be any more direct, even if they tried, now could they?"

"But who", Anthony strated, before he stopped on short while going little pale on his face. "You don't think…?"

Aziraphale seemed just as nervous. "…Adam?"

"Well, he did add some items in to your collection when he put your house back together…"

The angel shook his head vehemently. "Maybe so, but I already threw others away, there's no way that this would have left without a notice…"

"…Unless this is recent addition", Anthony concluded.

"But why would he… I mean, he wants to remain unnoticed, why risk that now?"

"Who else it could have been, then?"

Aziraphale hesitated. "Maybe… Father?"

Anthony shuddered and almost drop the book. "I don't know if I like that idea even less  _or_  only little more than the previous one…"

"But he certainly knows where to found us, and he did send Castiel here,  _twice_ , as you well remember…" Aziraphale argued.

"Well, were it the Big G or His grandchild, that doesn't really matter; the fact is that we now have this book in our hands." Anthony took a closer look to the pages.

"Do you understand that writing?" Aziraphale asked.

"Firstly: I'm a demon, not a witch! Secondly: I can understand some parts; mostly those that are based on the Hellish slang of Enochian… But the rest goes right over my head. Fergus might get more out of this, but I think that he, too, will be out of depth with this. We could have a use to a witch here…"

"Maybe Anathema could help us out?" Aziraphale proposed. "She's a nice young lady…"

"I think that Anathemas studies of "witchcraft" are more in the wicca-hippie spectrum than what the real meaning of the world speculates", Anthony reminded him.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "You might be right…" then his face brightened. "Then what about the Constatines? The current one seems like a rather pleasant young man, even though he smokes way too much for his own health… Now what was his name…? …John…? He has some expertise, don't you think?"

Anthony actually considered that a moment before shaking his head. "No, I don't think that we should drag him into this… He's already, like, the most hated guy both in Hell and Heaven  _and_  in the whole world itself… though I do think that those Winchesters may be able to top that, one day."

Aziraphale sighed. "Yes, indeed… He already has too much on his plate, the poor boy… But who else do we know?"

Anthony shrugged. "The Winchesters and Fergus' beau are all Hunters, aren't they? Shouldn't be that difficult for them to hunt down one or two witches for us, right?"

Aziraphale blinked his eyes and then laughed. "Oh, yes… I had totally forgotten that. They're such a good people, that sometimes I have a hard time to remember that they're also killers…"

Anthony sniggered. "I don't believe that they would appreciate that interpretation of their profession, angel", he said with a mirth. Then he snapped the book closed and put it on the table (it would have been more theatrical to just throw it, but you don't really threw book in Aziraphale's house without consequences), and said, "Now that that's been decided, let's keep going! I really deserve that bagel, now…"

"But – Shouldn't we first inform Fergus about this?" Aziraphale requested.

Anthony sighed pitifully and put up his most pouting face. "Angeeeel…", he moaned.

Aziraphale quickly stepped forward and wrapped the demon into a hug. "Oh, dear… You're right, of course, we aren't in  _that_  hurry… Besides, it's almost middle night now in Kansas, they're probably all sleeping…" The angel then released Anthony from his hug and took his hand into his own instead. "Let's go get those bagels. Now, I think that I want mine with salmon…"

Anthony smiled as they walked out of the door, entwining their fingers together. It seemed like this would be a beautiful day, indeed…

* * *

And the same time, in Lower Taddfield, the place more loved than anywhere else under the sun, two men and a dog were sitting under a tree, a bag of apples dangling between them. One of them, the middle-aged, little squirrely looking man with sandy hair, took a bite from his apple before saying, "You see, I know that I shouldn't meddle, but with that bunch people… I just can't help but do exactly that."

The younger man, who had a golden hair and almost painfully beautiful face, scratched his dog behind it's ears. "They do have that effect, I admit. They can be just so hopeless sometimes, can't they?" He took another apple – there were already a little pile of cones beside him – and then another one, offering it to his partner.

"Now, I really shouldn't – they aren't even from your garden", the older man said, but took the apple anyway. "Delicious", he admitted.

"Every apple is worth of eating", the younger man said with a tiny bit devilish smirk.

They were silent for a while.

"… You seriously named your Hellhound just Dog?"

"Shut up, grandpa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the deus ex machina in here, but I'm not even trying to make this very serious story anyway...  
> Also, I just had to put mention of John Constantine in there; they all live in London, Az and Anthony has to at least be aware of his existence. Those who doesn't know Constantine (is there any?), he's a character from DC comics and Vertigo, created by Alan Moore. He's a sorcerer with a questionable moral, a cynic chain smoker and an antihero, yet still a compassionate humanist, and he has conned all Lords of Hell and even the God himself. Castiel's outlook (and most of all his trademark trench coat) is most likely based on this character.


	8. Putting Names to the Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we finally meet Fergus' protegee.

When Dean wandered to the kitchen early in the morning, he wasn't surprised to find Cass there; after all, the angel hadn't yet quite caught up the pleasure of good night's sleep. What surprised him was that Crowley was there as well, standing front of the stove and making pancakes, of all things.

Then again, why was he so surprised? Hadn't it already became clear, that the ex-demon was not only a good cook but also rather proud of his skills?

Cass saw him standing on the doorway and smiled happily. "Good morning, Dean", he said.

"Morning, Cass. Crowley", Dean added, with a little nod towards the cook. It was always a good idea to show courtesy to someone who knew how to make a good pancake.

Crowley shot him a little surprised but pleased look. "And good morning to you, too, Squirrel."

"Fergus shows me how to make pancakes", Cass explained, with a proud note in his voice. It made Dean want to ruffle his hair, or maybe even kiss him, but of course he wouldn't do either, so he settled to just smile at him approvingly.

"That's great."

For that, Cass beamed even brighter, and Dean had to look away to hide his embarrassing blush.  _Damn, why does he has to look so cute when he's happy…?_  Dean's gaze met Crowley's, who scoffed and rolled his eyes, but didn't comment otherwise but saying, "If you want to eat, start setting the table. Others should be back soon…"

Things were maybe a tad too domestic for Dean's liking, but he saw no good excuse to argue without sounding like a brat, so he went gather the plates and utensils. "So where are everybody?" he asked.

"I sent Bobby to pick me up some groceries, and Moose went to jogging with Juliet; Growley of course went with Bobby, he takes his guardian duty to the heart…"

"Sammy went jogging with your Hellhound?!" Dean exclaimed, felting his worry starting to build up, before he remembered that neither of the creatures had acted were "hellhoundishly" (was there even a word for that?) duiring past few days.

Crowley shrugged. "It was his idea."

And it probably was; Sammy had a bad habit to try and be helpful.

Cass hovered beside Dean in a way that suggested that the angel had something he wanted to talk about; any  _normal_  being would just had coughed a bit to make that clear, but with Cass, being normal wasn't really an option.

"Yes, Cass?" Dean acknowledged.

"Fergus and I were talking about the situation with angels", Castiel stated. "We think that maybe I should try to contact Hannah." The name rang no bell in Dean's head, but luckily Castiel continued, "She was the one I contacted before when I made a trap for Metatron in the first place."

"Ah, right… Well, that trap kind of exploded right to your face", Dean muttered.

Cass squirmed a bit. "That wasn't her fault", he reminded. "No-one would have guessed that this would be happening."

"Whatever. So, what brought this out, anyways?" Dean questioned.

Castiel's gaze fell on the floor. "There's been… things, in the news. Bad ones."

Dean quirked his eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like the sort that we think that all those angels running out there are going to cause us just us much trouble that Abaddon is", said Crowley. "Heaven was already ready to fall apart, only few strong higher ups preventing the different fractions starting a new civil war. Now all those in command are either dead or banished like everyone else, and no longer held enough power to simmer things down, so all the fractions are ready to make the earth to their new battlefield."

"Well, shit."

"Shit, indeed", Crowley admitted with a dry tone. "On lighter note: my father called. They found something that will help us to locate Aziraphale's sword."

"Hey, that's great!"

"Yes, well, we might have little work to do with that… but let's talk more about that when whole group is here."

As is called, there was a loud woof, following a familiar sound of Bobby's voice calling, "I'm back. And we drove past Sam in our way here, if it indeed was him and not some human-shaped mass of mud; I didn't pick him up, he would have ruined the seats…"

"Oh, Juliet must have been in a very playful mood this morning", Crowley said innocently, as Dean glowered at him.

Bobby stepped in to the kitchen, and Dean felt Growley walking past him as the hound went to greet Crowley. "Oh, honey! Oh, papa missed you too, oh he did…" the ex-demon said to the Hellhound with syrupy voice, and then smiled at Bobby, who placed the sack of groceries on the counter. "Thank you, darling. Did you found everything that I asked for?"

"More or less", the old hunter grumbled. "They didn't have all those fancy trademarks that you insist me buying, though."

Crowley huffed as he started to empty the pack. "How inconvenient."

Bobby shrugged. "You'll survive. Aren't you gonna give me a kiss for all my troubles?"

It took only a second hesitation for the ex-demon to do just that, and Dean was happy that sounds of Sammy's arrival gave him a good reason to flee from the kitchen, dragging Cass with him out of the room.

"Tell him to take a quick shower before we eat", Crowley shouted after him, before his voice was again muffled by the kiss ( _and Dean really didn't want to think of that, dammit!_ ).

Even though Sammy wasn't in as bad shape as Bobby's words had implied, he was far from being Mr. clean, either. "If you look like that, do I dare even think of in what shape Juliet is?"

" _She's_  just fine", Sam panted and glared somewhere beside himself, where the Hellhound possibly was standing. "It was  _me_  who got dragged behind her half the way here, after all."

Dean smirked. "Well, Crowley said that you need to take a shower before we get any pancakes, so off you go."

"You realise that we are all acting like some sitcom family here?" Sam said.

"That's way too true, and that's exactly why no one goes to the kitchen before we know that the coast is clear", Dean warned. As Sam looked at him, he clarified, "Bobby and Crowley are having some parents alone time."

"In the kitchen?"

"Yup, and I sincerely hope that it's not going any farther than some kissing."

Sam shuddered. "Please don't give me any images", he pleaded. "I'll go take that shower now – no, not you!" he the added, as Juliet apparently decided to join his company. "You stay with Dean – Dean, call her to you!"

"Why? She clearly likes you better", Dean teased.

"Dean!" Sam wailed.

"Fine, fine… here, Juliet!" he said with a whistle, and only few seconds later he could feel the Hellhound whirling around him, huffing and sniffling and wagging her tail. "Wow – sit down! Good girl, that's a good girl… I has to admit, but Crowley really is one damn good dog trainer!"

"Well, he hasn't yet going around to teach her to walk at the same pace with her walker when she's in leash", Sammy said grudgingly and stalked out of the room.

"Don't take that too seriously", Dean said confidentially to the Hellhound, "he might act like a sourpuss but he really likes you, you know."

Juliet answered with a happy bark and then licked his whole arm wet before walking to Castiel's side. The angel smiled and started to scratch her, possibly behind her ears; it was little hard to say because Dean still couldn't see the animal.  _We really need to fix that some way_ , the hunter thought, because it wasn't very practical for five people to live with two hounds if only two of them could actually  _see_  those hounds… like, Cass  _could_  see them, right…?

"Hey, Cass – you  _do_  see her, don't you?"

The angel looked at him. "Of course."

Of course. "Well, what does she look like?"

Castiel tilted his head. "I would have expected hearing that question from a Sam, not from you. You've seen Hellhounds before, Dean."

Dean shook his head to chase away a bad memory. "I know what  _Hellhounds_  look like, Cass; I want to know what  _she_  looks like. What is the color of her fur, for example?"

Castiel looked searchingly at his eyes before scrutinizing the hound before him. "Her fur is dual colored; she has a small , black spots like a leopard does, in a strawberry blond base color. The fur is little darker on the top of her head and pack, where it grows into some kind of mane, and lighter on her snout. Growley's fur otherwise is fully black."

"Is she pretty? I mean, I know that she's probably scary as Hell to look at, but compared to the other Hellhounds."

"I… I think you could say that. After all, she does have a rather big eyes, and I've heard that people often see that as an endearing attribute…"

"What you mean, "you could say that"? Are you saying that you don't think that my little baby girl is a true cutiepie?" came Crowley's irritated voice behind them, making Dean jump a bit and turning to look at him. He sight with relief after seeing that though the ex-demon's hair was little mussed up, he otherwise seemed decent, and not at all like someone who had just had, ehem, "an adult time" in kitchen (he wasn't going to refer it as sex, he wasn't going to think about anything including words "Bobby" and "Crowley" and "sex" in the same sentence,  _and could he please just stop thinking about that, right now…!_ )

"I meant nothing of the sort", Cass assured calmly. "I simply acknowledge that my knowledge of what people see pretty might not be accurate. On my case, I think that she's as lovely as every living creatures are."

Crowley snorted. "Lovelier than most, I would say."

"I asked Cass to describe her to me. I would like to put faces to the names", Dean said.

"If you want to be able to see her, I think that my father can aid you in that when he and Az return", Crowley promised. "Pancakes are ready; go fetch your brother."

"I'm here!" Sammy informed as he stepped into the room.

"Good; let's talk more after we've ate", Crowley said as turned to walk back to the kitchen, others following soon after.

* * *

Sam rubbed his forehead. "So: your father found a spell book, from Az's shop, but either of them has no idea of where it has came from, and now we need to find a witch to perform that spell to us?"

"Oh, they have  _some_  ideas; they just decided that they don't really want to know  _who_  it was all that much. Otherwise, that kind of sums it up", Crowley admitted.

They were sitting in the war room, since this time Crowley had kept his head and absolutely refused to talk about anything considering their plans around the kitchen table, and Bobby had finally sided with him.

"Could it be a trap?" Dean asked.

"Not impossible, but highly unlikely. No demon, angel  _or_  witch can pass into Aziraphale's shop without notice, and the beings that can… well, they have no reason to wish their any harm."

"You sure?" Dean pushed on.

"As sure as one can be", Crowley confirmed.

"Fine, I'll buy it. Now what?"

"Finding witch shouldn't be that big of a problem", Bobby pointed out. "I can ask other hunters to keep their eyes open for the cases that might include one."

"Then there's still this problem with Metatron and banished angel waging war towards each others", Sam reminded.

"I'll try to contact Hannah", Castiel promised again. "I'm not sure if she will tell me anything, after she asked me to come back last time and I refused her plea, but I'll try."

"And meanwhile, I'll contact to my protégée in Hell and ask if she's feeling inclined to meet with us", Crowley added.

"And you couldn't do that earlier, because…?"

" _Because_  before I had no prove beside our words that she could gain something of siding with us, and by that I mean not just an one-way trip into Abaddon's torture chamber – which used to be  _mine_ , that  _good of nothing, stealing bitch_ …" Crowley's voice lowered into angry mumblings before Bobby knocked him gently on the forehead. The ex-demon cleared his troath before continuing, "Now that we are one step closer of finding the sword, we have little more than just a words to confirm her that our side  _does_  have a change against Abaddon."

"Are you  _sure_  that we can trust her?" Sam stressed out.

"To some point, yes; of course, she'll probably test the waters a little before jumping on to our ship."

"Like which way?"

"Well; as I mentioned last time we talked about her, if she agree to meet us, she'll probably bring then or so lower level demons with her, just to see if we can handle the situation."

"Nice", Dean muttered, "I was just thinking that we haven't have enough exercises lately…"

"Talk about yourself; maybe you should give Juliet a walk at the evening!" Sam pointed out.

"When are Aziraphale and Anthony coming?" Castiel asked from Crowley, clearly paying no attention to the bickering brothers.

"Tomorrow, or maybe the day after that; Az hasn't yet gotten all of his library back together after the mess Gadreel made there", Crowley said, his voice turning sullen as the angel's name was mentioned; he clearly knew how to held a grudge.

"Maybe I should go and offer them some help…?"

"Not necessary, Feathers; and with no ill meaning, you would probably just mess things up even more. People who like owning books  _really_  don't like other people touching them all that much."

"I see."

Crowley stood up. "Fine, if that was it… I'll try to make that call now. It'll take some time to convince her, so don't expect me to join back to the company any way soon." He leaned down to kiss Bobby softly on the cheek before walking out of the room. "Play nice, kids; don't give your daddy too hard time there!"

"I hate it when he likes to play house", Dean muttered.

* * *

After few hours Crowley came to find them again. "Put some clothes on, all of you; we have a meeting agreed on."

* * *

_The girl overdid herself this time_ , Fergus thought with dry amuse as he watched Bobby and his boys taking down small army of demons that his protégée had bought with her to their meeting.

"Dammit, Crowley!" Dean shouted as he put down one another demon, "I thought that you said that she would bring low level demons!"

"Well, I miscalculated", Fergus admitted, not practically bothered by this. "But you seem to manage just well."

"Why you-!" But whatever the hunter was aiming to call him was left unsaid as the heat of the battle snatched him right back in.

Fergus eyes skimmed over the battlefield to meet his protégée's gaze. She quirked one manicured eyebrow at him, clearly little put-off by his current state (Fergus had wisely decided to not inform her of his new human status beforehand), but he just shrugged, preserving all explains till better time.

That better time came even sooner than Fergus had anticipated, as the hunters finished their final opponents and stood there, panting and glaring the she-demon almost murderously.

"Did you enjoy the show, sugar?" Fergus asked with leisure tone as he walked towards the only standing demon, Castiel hurrying to see if others had taken any damages. Fergus had commanded the angel stand back during the fight, so that the hunters had change to prove their abilities with no supernatural aid.

"It was very informative", his protégée answered dryly. "I have to admit that even though I've heard the rumors, I wasn't expecting this kind of progress in their skills."

"They have come far, indeed", Fergus admitted, now standing right front of her. While he wasn't really afraid of being attacked by her (she wasn't either reckless or stupid enough for that), he was still touched when Bobby came to stand beside him.

The demon glanced at Bobby but didn't comment. "Your state is different subject all together", she said.

"Little backfire from something I tried previously; nothing for you to worry about."

She scoffed. "Well, good luck for you to ruling Hell like that. Seriously, when you called I thought that we could really be out of something; are you now telling me that I just wasted my time and resources to arrange this meeting?"

Fergus smiled; of all the demons in Hell, this one was the most of his liking. "That depends, sugar…"

"Of what?"

"Of if you're interested to become the next ruler of Hell or not."

Her eyes flashed and then narrowed of suspect. "You're kidding."

"I'm dead serious", Fergus retorted.

She scrutinized him for a moment. "Why?"

"Because, as you implied, I'm really not in shape to rule over the Hell anymore… And no matter what, I want that bitch gone. You're apple of my eye, sugar plum, and thusly the only one to whom I'm ready to pass my torch upon to."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "And as your protégée, you also expect me to heed your advices, right?"

"Well, only if there's any circumstance that reflects on me and mine, of course…"

"…And if it doesn't, you make it to reflect", she said, but now there clearly was amusement in her eyes.

"One do what one can", Fergus admitted honestly.

Her lips quirked. "Fair enough."

"So? How is it going to be… Do we have a deal?"

She snorted. "How do I have this strange déjà vu like you had asked me that before?"

"And see how far that has taken you?"

Now she actually laughed. "Fine. I'm in." They shook hands. "Now how are you planning to make me a queen?"

"All in time, sugar. Now, introductions – the spacey-eyed one is Castiel, our resident angel; others you already know, so I won't waste my breath, but only one major warning", Fergus said, taking Bobby's hand into his own, "This one: mine.  _Do not touch_."

She rolled her eyes. "Jeez, fine; that still leaves me three guys to mess with…" she turned towards the Winchesters. "Dean, Sam… long time no see."

Dean frowned. "Do we know you?"

"Oh, how cruel; girl is few years out of the town and you've already forgotten me… even though we used to have a such a nice time together…"

"Well, we have had hard time with rather many demons past years, so don't take it personally", Sam said stiffly.

She laughed. "Sammy, Sammy… What has happen to you? You used to be such a nice boy, drooling after me like some love-sick fool…"

"Something you want to tell, Sam?" Dean muttered.

"Dean, I swear, I haven't been in close contact with any demon after Ruby!"

Fergus rolled his eyes; in normal situation, this would have greatly amused him (and it kind of did, even now), but they had a lot important things to discuss about and not too much time to waste before someone in Hell would start to think his protégée's whereabouts. "Who ever said that she was a demon pack then?" he said to the brothers. "And as for you – behave yourself,  _Bela_  darling."

And the stunned expressions on the Winchester's faces were  _so_  worth of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to bring Bela into this story for so long time already...!  
> On other note: I personally imagine Hellhounds looking a bit like Andrewsarchuses. I know that they aren't any close relatives to canines, but they look just so amazing!


	9. Bela is Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bela puts things on move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I've tried to update once a week, but I'm not sure if I can keep that up any longer... I have no real plan of what I'm doing with the angels, or where Aziraphale's sword is, or really anything considering Metetron's schemes... So patience is needed. Anyways, I hope that all those who still reads this story enjoys this chapter.

"Oh, who's auntie Bela's sweet, good girl? Is it you? Oh, yes you are…!"

Juliet was so happy to meet her favourite demon in the world (after her papa, of course – but he wasn't a demon anymore, was he now?), that Fergus was little worried that she might pee on the floor just out of sheer excitement.

Both Dean and Sam seemed still to be in some state of stupor; it was clear that they'd never believed that they would encounter Bela again some day, and Fergus felt like rolling his eyes for that stupidity – someone like her never spent too many years in the bottom of the pit, at least not while Fergus' was ruling. Bobby, on the other hand, was taking the revelation much easier, or maybe he was just better at hiding his surprise.

"So you're Fergus'… protégé, was it?" the old hunter asked with leisure tone.

Bela whisked her hair over the shoulder dismissingly. "Something like that", she admitted, while continuing to lavish adoring Juliet with her attention.

"Let's sit down", Fergus suggested. "Would you like some wine, sugar?"

Bela actually rolled her eyes this time. "Why not,  _papa_ ", she quipped, which made Fergus shot a warning look at her even though he decided to make no comment.

Bobby raised his left eyebrow. " _Papa?_  Seriously?"

"She only says so to bait me", Fergus assured.

"Well, to be fair, you  _do_  treat me like one of your Hellhounds, and you also do recall yourself as their papa", Bela said, but then he stood up and more serious look rise upon her face. "But you're right; we should indeed all sit down. Because the news I bring are dire, and something should be done for them sooner more than later."

It was maybe little too theatrically said from Fergus' taste, but Bela had always been little dramatic, and so he just nodded and went to fetch few bottles of wine (the Winchesters were still no help, and Castiel wouldn't know the difference between a good wine and a vinegar), while Bobby put things in order in the war room.

It didn't take a long time before they were all sitting down around the table. Dean, who'd finally managed to shake at least most of his stupor away, was now glaring Bela with distrustful eyes while Sam seemed to be more ready to listen her for now and make his decisions considering her sincerity at later time.

"You said you have bad news", the younger Winchester opened the deliberation. "Well, we are all listening now. Care to clarify a bit?"

Bela quirked her eyebrow at the Fergus. "You let them speak just like that?"

Dean's glare became more heated. "Hey, his not our boss, okay?"

Fergus shrugged. "We're all equals here… Well, except Dean. He falls little under, if you know what I mean…"

"HEY!"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Shut up, both of you! Bela, just answer to Sam's question."

The demoness rested her arms against the table before starting to talk. "The news are, that what ever we're planning to do, we need to do it quickly. More than you've even anticipated, and I'll explain you why.

As you might have noticed, Abaddon has stayed little lay-down ever since her taking the throne. The reason is that, even though they're many of those in Hell who are ready to follow her, either because they share the similar ideals or are just too much cowards to rise against her, there are still just as many of those who either resist her or aren't ready to make their decision – for they still fear the previous king more and are unsure what would come to them should him overthrown her. Of course, they aren't privy of the current state of him – nor will they hear about it from me!" she assured heatedly as Dean opened his mouth, "but without the fast majority of Hell standing behind her, she hadn't been ready to advance with her plans."

"I take it that the things have changed recently?" Bobby grunted.

Bela nodded. "Yes, just a few days ago… When the angels suddenly fell from Heaven." After seeing Castiel's face turning ashen with guilt and shame, she let out short, angry hiss of a breath. "Why am I even surprised that the group of you had something to do with it?!"

"Hey, leave Cass out of this! He has done nothing!" Dean shouted and laid a calming hand over Castiel's shoulder.

"Castiel here helped to catch Metatron after he went rogue, but he escaped from the jail up There and somehow managed to banish all the angels down here", Fergus summed up quickly. "We're working on it; now, how has this affected to Abaddon?"

Bela slowly sifted her gaze away from the huddled-up angel and back to Fergus. "How? Not much, really; it has just managed to shook her enough so that she has decided to release the Lords of Hell, that's all!"

Fergus cursed, while Castiel paled even more; Bobby squinted his eyes, Sam's eyes went cloudy as if he was searching something from his memory, and Dean, well…

"Wait, whom? I mean, I know I've heard that before, but…"

"Angels from the Pit, Dean", Castiel told him. "Those who stood against our Father in Lucifer's side and then Fell with him on the bottom of the Hell. They were trapped there, alongside with him, and so would they remain till the end of days."

"Right. So they're the boss-level, then?"

Castiel was the only one who didn't roll his eyes on that statement, and that was only because he was the only one who was lucky enough to not understand the reference.

"I don't understand."

"Cass, it's okay", Sam assured. "Really."

"At least  _you_  haven't changed at all since our last meeting", Bela said dryly. "Forgive me if it's not as  _comforting_  as its cracked out to be."

"What?"

"Bad jokes aside, those are some worrying news", Bobby said. He looked at Fergus. "I've met your father, and I know that he's a strong guy. Are those down there the same caliber?"

Fergus shook his head. "Stronger, I fear; my father has always shun battle whenever its possible, but those in the Pit? They cherish it."

Sam looked thoughtful. "Then why didn't Lucifer release them when he was freed duiring the apocalypse? Not that I complain, but… He had all that firepower in his peck and call, yet he refused to use it?"

"Remember, that Lucifer had some memories, no matter how vague they were, about the last apocalypse-that-weren't; that's why he maid so many changes in the script this time. He knew that one of his owns betrayed him, one of the Fallen; but he couldn't recall who. He thought that he would do better with using only the regular demons, because he didn't think that they would be smart enough to work against him or have their own secret plans", Fergus explained. Positively wicked smirk grazed his lips as he added, "Goes without saying what was his downfall this time!"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, you single-handedly beat the evilest evil there is! Now what were me and Sam doing during that time, again?"

"Oh, I'm sure you were doing the best you could", Fergus placated, before they both looked at each others solemn faces and started to snigger.

"Just leave them be", Bobby said to the others with fond exasperate. "Continue, Bela; when and why is she planning to do this?"

"What comes to when, I would say: As soon as possible. And why? Because the angels, no matter how concentrated they are to fight their own, meaningless battle about who is in right and who isn't, aren't still going to just stand aside and watch her taking over the world; even worse, if they find no way back in Heaven, they may even decide to stay and start to rule it by themselves, and that Abaddon wont allow. They are an obstacle, and she wants it destroyed… and for that she needs manpower."

"But would the Fallen even listen to her?" Sam questioned. "We know how Lucifer saw demons: they were like vermin to him, and Knight of Hell or not, Abaddon is one of them. Wouldn't Lucifer's companions share his point-of-view about them?"

Bela smirked hollowly. "That's the beauty of it: Abaddon thinks that if the angels and the Fallen start to fight, they'll wipe each other out almost completely. And which ever sides stands victorious has already suffered enough losses that it's possible for her army to defeat it."

"And Abaddon becomes the king of hill who rules it all – Hell, Earth… and Heaven by default", Sam muttered.

"Balls", Bobby cursed. "What about Lucifer? Does she have plans towards him? Like placing all worlds on his feet…"

Bela looked at Fergus, who in turn shook his head. "No, Abaddon was never true believer; she only cares about battle and conquest, not the final destination – and she never was very impressed by Lucifer. Her loyalty – and love, as far as her feelings could be called that – belonged to Cain, till he almost slayed her…"

"And who's this Cain, then?" Dean asked.

"Wait, I recall something… Your father mentioned him, didn't he?" Sam said as he looked at Fergus. "He asked from Aziraphale if he'd planned of using the knife of Cain…"

"…Which Az denied, but yes: the same guy", Fergus admitted.

"So who is he?" Sam insisted.

Fergus sighed with irritation. "Who? Some say that he's the oldest demon in existence, the first that Lucifer ever created; but who knows? What is sure is that he's Cain, son of Adam and Eve, the couple that once lived in Eden; and for his crime of killing his younger brother, Abel, he was cursed: mark was put on him, and the knife given to his hand, and he became the first Knight of Hell and commander of all those who came after him."

Sam's eyes had gone as wide as a saucers. "Wow. Really? Did it all… the story of Cain and Abel… it really happened?"

Fergus shrugged. "In some way or another."

Dean frowned. "So why did your father think we would use that knife?"

Bela was the one who answered him this time; "Because not so long time ago, for whatever reason he had, Cain used it to destroy other Knights; Abaddon was the only one who get to escape that destiny."

"After that, Cain went missing; and as far as know, he took the knife with him", Fergus concluded.

"So why didn't we try to find it, then? Since it clearly works! I mean, I'm sure that Az's sword's more posh, but…"

"We mustn't, Dean", Castiel said. "My knowledge isn't as fast as my brother's, and Aziraphale has been close-lipped of this matter, but even I can tell you that the knife is dangerous."

"Well, it  _is_  a knife; that's kind of it's purpose…"

"Not only because of it's pointy end, Squirrel; the knife its made to corrupt the one who wields it."

"Are you saying that I'm weak-willed, huh?"

"He isn't; and it's even more than that. From what I recall from the time I lived in Heaven when things were still… when they were stable, to say the least – there were stories about the first demon and the knife. They said that the knife is the key…"

"For what?" Sam asked.

Castiel shook his head with frustration. "I don't know; but I fear that if we try to use the knife, we might end up releasing a foe at least as deadly as Leviathans."

There was a silent moment, which Bobby then broke. "I think we've got enough foes in our plate as it is, thank you very much. We'll use Aziraphale's sword, as we've already agreed on…"

"IF we manage to find it", Dean muttered.

Bela glared them all. "I thought you had something concrete here! Are you now telling me that I've just wasted my time for useless prattle?!"

"We've a spell", Fergus said. "We'll find the sword as soon as we found a witch to perform it to us."

Bea rubbed her temple. "By "we" you mean Winchesters, right? Forget it.  _I'll_  bring you a witch."

Dean squinted at him with suspicion. "Oh? So now you have witches as your pals?"

" _No_ , but I happen to know where to find one; or, at least, were to put a trap for her. She's been hampering our businesses, lately…"

"Which business?" Dean carried on.

" _Not yours_."

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam was quicker. "Now, do we have any plans of how to advance once we have the sword? We can't just go and raid the Hell, and I doubt she would just kindly come out to play if we asked…"

"We need a trap, of course", Fergus admitted.

"But which sort? What do we have what she would want?" Dean asked.

"Try me", Fergus said.

Bobby looked at him with fury in his eyes. "No."

"You has to admit, darling, that it's our best bet…"

"NO."

"The idea is still legit", Bela pointed out. "Abaddon  _wants_  Crowley's head, and not only that: she  _needs_  it, because only then she can prove to all demons that she's the sole king of Hell."

"And how is that supposed to make me like that idea any better?" Bobby growled. "Besides, she'll only need a one solitary look at him to notice that he's not even a demon any more…"

"I can deceive her longer, if I have help", Fergus said and looked at Bela.

The demoness smirked. "You want me to posses you?"

"Why not, sugar? Don't we already know each other as a backs of our hands…?"

"Even that wont deceive her but a moment!" Bobby insisted. "Once she's close enough, she'll see that Bela's there…!"

"Moment's all we need", Dean said darkly. "It and the surprise should be enough of an diversion for me to get close and cut her damn head off!" When Bobby turned his thunderous gaze towards him, Dean shrugged helplessly, "Hey, it's like they said! What other bets we have?"

"I don't like this idea either", Castiel admitted, "and I'm sure that both Aziraphale and Anthony will have a thing or two to say when they hear about this… But right now, I can't think any other way that could give as any changes at all."

Bobby kept glaring them all, stubborn and full of fury, and finally Fergus sighed and said, "Fine… let's not talk about this now. Who knows, maybe we'll come up with something better before it's time to act?"

"You're only saying that because you're sure that we wont, but aren't too keen to start fighting me about it", the old hunter muttered.

"You read me like an open book, darling!" Fergus complimented and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"So, are we quite finished here, then?" Bela said. "Because I need to get back before someone starts to suspect anything…"

"I think that this was all for now. But we'll be on contact, right?" Fergus ensured.

She shrugged. "I promised to bring you a witch, didn't I? Now, would you maybe have enough courtesy to come to see me off,  _papa?_  There are some words that I would like to share with you."

"If you've something to say, you can say it so that we can all hear", Dean said.

"Why so distrustful?" Bela said with feigned hurt in her voice. "Whatever have I done the deserve such a hate?"

"What, you want a list? Let's just look back all those time we've encountered you in the past and say:  _what haven't you done_?"

Sam sighed. "Dean, let it rest…"

"Let…?! Sam, have you forgotten what -?!"

"No, I haven't; I'm just asking you to put old grudges aside for a while, at least until we've defeated Abaddon."

"She'll double-cross us anyway! That's her nature – and even more now that she's a demon."

"Hey!" Fergus resisted. "I detest that! I am – I  _was_  a demon too, and I didn't  _always_  double-cross you!"

"Often enough."

"But not always!"

"This is ridiculous!" Sam shouted. "We're not supposed to argue like children, but stop Abaddon from raising the Hell on earth…! Bela, thank you for coming today; we appreciate it,  _really_. Crowley, go ahead and see her out; I'll handle Dean."

"Whatever, Moose."

* * *

"He's matured a lot, hasn't he?" Bela said as they stood outside the Bunker, Juliet standing between then (because Bobby had refused to let Fergus out without at least one of his hound there as a bodyguard).

"Who? …Dean?"

"No! Sam. Little Sammy has learned to speak his mind…"

Fergus shrugged. "Maybe… But he's still a spoil-sport."

Bela sighed. "And when are you planning to start mature…? No wonder you like Dean: You're so similar that it hurts my head to even think that I'm going to work with the two of you… But Sam. He used to have such a crush on me, did you know? Looking me like a puppy-dog, miracle indeed that he didn't start to follow me around like some stray…"

"You wouldn't see that as a bother, now, I suppose", Fergus smirked.

"Hush, you."

"But really, I'm happy that it's the Moose and not Dean… I mean – you saw, right?"

"The way that he and that little angel were acting? That would have been impossible to miss. I'm not saying that it wouldn't be funny to mess around a bit with them, but then again…"

"Aziraphale would be disappointed in you if you did", Fergus warned. "And… yes, even I would have to step up for them. Dean is moron, but he's funny to have around, and Castiel… he's family."

She looked at him searchingly. "You  _have_  changed."

He snorted. "Yes. Feelings, right? Make you one softie…"

Bela snorted. "I don't mean that – softie you were from the begin with, no matter how hard you try to act as a complete bastard. No – I mean that you're happy… relaxed. Like you've found your place."

Fergus looked at her sharply. "Okay, what is this, now? Looking for my weak spots, maybe?"

"Like I would even need to; I've known then from the very beginning." She scratched Juliet from behind her ears. "Do you really think that you've any changes to win?"

"I'm not sure if I should be worried about how you say "you" and not "we", or proud because you know better than rush in anything without a second glance."

"Just answer the question."

Fergus tilted his head. "I would say… 50/50. Either we win, or we'll all die in horrible pains."

Bela huffed. "Very encouraging."

Fergus shrugged. "I just wanted to be honest. But Winchesters have always been wild cards, and they have succeed in deeds that no other would have."

"So you ask me to put my trust on them?"

"Them, me, the great spaghettimonster… does it matter? Let's roll the dice."

Bela chuckled. "I think that I might not like this new, happier you as much as the older one…"

"But you admit you did like me, then?"

"I don't think that I ever tried to deny that,  _papa_ ", Bela pointed out. Then she patted Juliet one last time and walked a few steps away before stopping and turning to face him again. "I'll bring that witch to you. You better find that sword quickly… and never doubt that I wouldn't sell you to Abaddon if it comes to that!" Then she vanished with a puff of sulfur.

Fergus smirked. "That's my girl", he confessed to Juliet.

The Hellhound looked earnestly her master's eyes and barked once for a confirmation.


	10. Meeting Between Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel really is clueless sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've desided to update once in two weeks, because that gives me more time to figure out where I'm leading this story and maybe write little better chapters (because there's been few that I'm not totally proud of).

Castiel stood outside of the seemingly abandoned warehouse building and suffled his feet with anticipation as he kept his eyes locked into the door. Sigils around the house – unseen by the mortal eyes, but easy for angel to see – should had already alarmed the people inside of his presence. So why hadn't anybody yet came to interrogate him? Were they expecting some kind of trap – that angels from another fraction were hiding nearby, just waiting others to drop their guard so that they could attack?

 _It might be exactly what this is about_ , Castiel mused.  _If even a fracture of what that demon said is true, then the situation is extremely grave…_

He thought that maybe he should just leave – Dean and Sam were waiting nearby in their Impala, and Castiel knew that they were keeping an eye on him, sitting quietly while listening every sound that the open cellphone in Castiel's pocket sent them from and being ready to rush on his side if any sign of him needing help was noticed.

But leaving would mean giving up, and he'd already spent so much time to convince others to let him even try this…

* * *

_**Earlier…** _

Aziraphale and Anthony had returned to the bunker as promised, and passed the grimoire they found to Sam and Bobby to explore. They were eager to try the spell, and hoped that Bela would contact them as soon as possible, though Fergus had warned that it would probably take a few days at least.

The text-message came to Sam's phone at the evening, and his eyes went little wide as he saw from who it was from. "Gadreel!" he exclaimed, surprise clear in his voice. "I put my number in to the cellphone a gave to him, but I never really believed that he would actually use it…"

"Great. Now what does he want?" Dean asked grumpily.

"Wait, let me take a look at it… Cass? I think it's for you", Sam said and offered the phone to him. Castiel took it and scrolled the message over, while Dean and Fergus came to read it over his shoulders.

The message was rather short: there was an address (which Sam was already looking from his computer) and above it the name "Hannah".

"So what's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked.

"I checked the address; it matches with an abandoned warehouse", Sam said.

"Hannah's there", Castiel said. "That's what he wants to tell me – where to find Hannah."

Dean took the phone from his hand and read the message again, his eyes squinted with suspicion. "But why tell this to us now? He was rather sure of not wanting to help us before, so what's made him to change his mind now?"

"Could be trap", Fergus pointed out – he clearly wasn't keeping any hurry to forgive and forget Gadreel's action towards his father.

"Or maybe he just felt like he owed us a favor, after feeding him and all", Sam countered. "Besides, he might not yet had this information back then."

"I should go there", Castiel said.

"Out of the question", Dean said with authoritative voice.

"But Hannah may know something about Metatron's plans", Castiel pleaded his case, "and she could also tell me just how bad is the situation right now…"

"Absolutely not", Dean said, and crossed his arms over his chest to make it clear that he would not change his mind about this.

Castiel turned to Fergus, but the ex-demon only shrugged. "Sad to say, but I'm with the Squirrel in this. I don't trust on this Gadreel, nor on angels altogether – those currently in this room excluded."

Castiel looked at Aziraphale for help, but the other angel seemed uncertain. "I don't know, Castiel – I would love to believe that Gadreel has looked past of his grudges and decided to side with us, but… I'm not sure if I can. I wouldn't want any harm come to you because of something that had nothing to do with you in the first place."

Castiel felt defeated, but then another voice came to his aid; "I think you should let him try it." All heads turned towards Anthony, who looked ready to go hide behind Aziraphale under theirs stares. "I mean, he clearly wants to; and if you wont let him, he'll do it anyway, with no-one as his back-up, while feeling bad for doing it behind our backs. That's exactly what he's done before, and has it ever ended up anything else but in total mess?"

Dean opened his mouth, probably start to shout, but this time Bobby was faster. "I side with that." He looked sternly at Fergus while continuing, "It's not like you have any rights to be against this – not if I have to allow you putting yourself on even bigger risk while playing bait for Abaddon."

Fergus scoffed. "Is this some stupid payback of yours? "You're going to make me worry for your sake, so let's see how well you'll handle of being worried of someone first"?"

Bobby shook his head. "No – but if you are allowed to take risk in a case that's important to you, why should the same rights be denied from Cass?"

Fergus didn't seem to be convinced, but Aziraphale looked thoughtful. Then he said, "You're right, both of you. Risks are real, but we can't really deny Castiel for acting due his free will."

Sam looked at Dean apologetically before adding hesitantly, "And I'm afraid that I have to agree with them. I really don't want any harm to come for Cass, but we simply need to know more about Metatron's case. We cannot know if Hannah has any interests for helping us, or if she even knows anything more than us, but we have to try."

"Yeah? And what if it indeed is a trap?" Dean said spitefully.

Sam shrugged. "We'll be nearby, ready to act if things go south. And honestly, Dean – if this was about you, you would already be there, with backup or not."

"Well, but…"

"Dean, I promise to be careful", Castiel said. "Besides, Hannah is old friend of mine; she has helped me before, remember?"

"Maybe, but I also remember that she wasn't exactly happy with you after you refused to go back to Heaven with her", Dean reminded him with a grumpy voice, which made Fergus snigger.

"Oh, are you worried that Feather may end up running away with his ex?" he said. "Well, I wouldn't blame him… considering how  _slow_  your moves towards him have been…"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Dean shouted, his face heated up with anger and embarrassment.

Castiel wasn't sure how he was expected to react, mostly because he didn't quite comprehend what was said. He looked at Sam for advises, but the younger Winchester seemed to be too amused by Dean's outcry to take a notice of him.

Anthony came to his aid by saying with low voice, "Fergus suggested to Dean that you and Hannah might have been in romantic relationship before."

Castiel's eyes went wide. "We haven't!" he exclaimed, and shot an icy look on Fergus. "We haven't", he repeated.

Fergus rolled his eyes. "Are you sure that Hannah has got that memo, too?"

"She's my friend, not… anything that you implied", Castiel said stubbornly.

"Can't we all just calm down?" Aziraphale asked with exasperation. "Maybe I could brew us a nice cup of tea…"

Anthony sniggered fondly. "That's your answer for anything, Angel… but I wouldn't mind a cuppa", he assured hurriedly as Aziraphale glowered at him.

Finally they all ended up sitting around the kitchen table with a steaming cup of tea in front of them; though Castiel had politely refused the offered cup and Dean was ignoring his while sulking and glaring draggers to them all. He hadn't so much of gave in but grumpily accepted that no-one was going to hear his arguments, and now refused to join their conversation. Castiel hoped that he could find right words to assure Dean that everything would go well, but didn't hold his breast while waiting that to happen.

"Dean and I will come with you", Sam told to Castiel and tried to catch his brothers eyes, but the elder Winchester just shrugged and turned his face away. Brushing it off, Sam continued, "We will wait block or two apart and if anything suspicious happen, we'll rush right on your side."

Castiel nodded. "Nothing will happen – but I'm happy that you'll be there anyway", he added while peeking a look at Dean. He felt his wings drooping a bit when other show no sign of noticing that.

Bobby stood up. "Meanwhile, I think that I should take another look on that grimoire and see if I can make any sense of that spell; I know that Bela will bring the witch as soon as she's able, but I would like to have even a foggy idea of what we should expect to happen then." He walked out of the door, knocking Dean's head while walking past him. "Stop being a jerk, idjit", he grumbled under his breath. Fergus, who followed hot on Bobby's heels, leaned up to whisper something on Dean's ear; Castiel couldn't hear what it was about, but considering the spiteful look on Fergu's face and the way Dean suddenly shuddered, he could guess that it was nothing pleasant.

"We'll join you soo", Aziraphale called after them while carrying empty teacups in the sink. "Will you offer an helping hand, dear?"

"I'm the towel-man", Anthony said quickly. "I'm not really the friend of hot water", he told to the others confidentially.

Sam stood up too. "I'll go and put things ready." After shooting a quick look at Dean he added, with lower voice, "Don't worry – he'll come along." He gave Castiel an apologetic smile and pat on the shoulder, before going to gave Dean far less gentle shove.

"This is mafia", Dean complained while rubbing his arm.

"Grow up", Sam hissed before leaving.

Now there were only four persons left in the kitchen. Castiel was planning to leave, when Dean suddenly sighed and said, "I really don't like you taking these risks."

"We all do take them time to time, you more than anyone else", Castiel reminded him. It felt like his heart has just started to beat again, now that Dean was no longer ignoring him.

"It's different when it's you", Dean insisted.

Castiel licked his lips hesitantly. "Why is that, Dean?"

"You know why!" the hunter said, while throwing his arms up with frustration.

"I'm not sure", Castiel answered. "I think I do – and I hope that I'm right with that thought – but how can I be sure? You humans – you're so complicated. You say something while your eyes tell differently and your act shout all another thing – how can I ever be sure?"

Dean stared at him with frustration and nervousness and longing, and then glanced towards Aziraphale and Anthony; the angel choose right that moment to say, rather loudly, "It's a quite a noise this faucet is keeping, isn't it, dear?"

And Anthony retorted, just as loudly, "Yes, indeed – and all this tableware, clicking together… Hard to hear anything else!"

Dean shook his head. "Dorks", he muttered, but sounded rather amused, and turned back towards Castiel. "See, I, um… Eh, damn it all!" he suddenly growled, grabbed Castiel on his shoulders – and kissed him.

 _Dean's kissing me._  It took few moments of Castiel's brains to catch up with that phrase. Then he felt bubbly, fuzzy warmness to fill his stomach.  _Dean is kissing me!_  He didn't hesitate to answer on that act.

Way too soon Dean pulled back, breaking contact between their lips to gasp a breath, but then pressed their foreheads against each other; Castiel felt the puffs of his breath against his lips. "You're impossible", Dean said with stern voice. "You act upon a moment's heat, not even once stopping to think what are the consequences for yourself. You're trustful and naive, and so full of ideals, and expect everyone else be as honorable as you are, and end up breaking either your heart or few of your bones once it becomes clear that it totally isn't so. You mean good to anyone, and somehow it always cause a horrible mess because you think that you don't want to made anyone else to carry your burdens and think that you have to do everything on your own – or then you ask help from Crowley, and that's probably just as bad…" Dean was babbling, but Castiel didn't really care, still as long as he kept talking the angel could keep drowning into his eyes. "And sometimes you fall so hard, and it breaks  _my_  heart, because you're the one angel that was never meant to do that – but you've always rise up again, and that's something I really admire in you – how brave you are, and how you just keep trying, even while everyone else have already given up and are begging you to let it rest… And I sound like a some complete idiot, and if Sam or Bobby – or Crowley, of God's sake! – ever hear about this I'm going to die for embarrassment, but freaking I love you, you stubborn, brave little fool, and I'm going to keep you safe, even if I have to fight with you in every step on it!"

After that summation of his character, Castiel was little out of depths what to say, so he said the only words that made any sense to him right then: "I love you too, Dean."

And then they kissed again.

Somewhere on the background Anthony said, "This wall is also very interesting. All this… tiles. Riveting, isn't it?"

"Indeed, Dear."

* * *

_**Back to the present…** _

Castiel blushed a bit and touched his lips absentmindedly while remembering their kiss. His head was still little giddy with happiness, though he tried to tone it down now that they were middle of a case… sorta.

He really must had been distracted, because he didn't sense anyone nearing him from behind before angelblade was pressed against his throat and familiar voice growled into his ear, "No sudden movements… Why are you here, Castiel?"

"Hannah", Castiel acknowledged, trying to not flinch as the blade scraped his neck. He made sure to not sound distressed, so that the Winchesters wouldn't misjudge the situation and rush in too soon.

"Answer me!" Hannah ordered.

"I came to talk", Castiel said. "I want to know about Metatron."

Hannah scoffed. "What's to tell? He cast us off and locked the gates of Heaven so that we cannot return." But she moved the blade little farther from Castiel's skin.

"How? How did he manage that?"

"A spell", Hannah said simply. "Your turn to answer: how did you find us?"

Castiel hesitated, and could feel the blade again start pressing little harder. "I'm not your enemy, Hannah!"

"That doesn't make you my ally, either; who told you?"

"Gadreel", he finally admitted, and Hannah went stiff.

"You've met him?" she asked with calculating tone.

"I…"

"Where?" Hannah demanded. "Where is that traitor?!"

"I don't know."

He was twirled around and threw against the wall, angalblade coming to point right on his heart. He met Hannah's gaze, and could see exhaustion and rage and even deeper devastation in her eyes as the other angel leaned forward and repeated, their faces so close that their noses were almost touching, "Where. is. he?"

"I don't know, Hannah."

For a moment Hannah stared him intensely right in the eyes before she seemed to relax a bit, enough at least to unhand him even though she didn't sheath her blade. "I believe you… for now. You never really learned how to lie, Castiel."

Castiel let out a breath he hadn't known that he had held. "I've heard that things are tense, but I wasn't prepared for this", he admitted.

Hannah laughed bitterly. "Tense! Let me tell you, Castiel, that if I hadn't vouched for you and volunteered to face you alone, you would already be dead."

"Then you have my gratitude."

The look Hannah gave to him was one he couldn't really comprehend. Then she shook her head and said, "But you need to promise to tell us if you encounter Gadreel again, Castiel; he has to pay for what he's done – and so do Metatron."

"From what I heard, it's not Metatron that you've been fighting against."

Hannah's eyes went dark. "You won't get to put a blame on me, Castiel!"

"I wasn't –"

"You left us! You defeated Rafael and we had a hope that you could combine Heaven's forces, but then you just left! And when I finally found you, you refused to return with me – us – and even worse, you made us to take the architect of our demise back to Heaven!"

"I didn't know things would go that way, Hannah."

"And even now – you haven't come to join us, have you, Castiel? Are you once again just going to stand still and watch while all you once believed in and were ready to fight for is dragged in to the mud?!"

"I'm looking ways to stop this. There's no point for this war."

Hannah shook her head. "It's way too late for that, and you know it."

"There must be a way! We – I mean I and the Winchesters and – we are trying to -"

"IT'S TOO LATE!" Hannah screamed back.

They stood there and stared at each other. Finally, Castiel continued, "Not even if I manage to find Metatron and force him to open the Heaven again?"

Hannah's smile was sad and bitter as she replied, "Oh, Castiel… What would it change? The fight would just move from earth back to the Heaven – but maybe that would be enough for you?" she then added, her eyes squinting at Castiel with suspicion. "At least, if we went on war in Heaven, your precious  _humans_  would be safe from the consequences, right?"

"I don't understand what you mean with that." But Castiel had a idea that he indeed did understand – and couldn't even deny what was said.

"You always choose them – ever since you met that Dean Winchester. What so special about him, anyway?"

"We're not talking about Dean", Castiel blocked. "Hannah, I really want to stop this war. I don't want angel –  _any angel_  – die for no real reason."

"You could had prevented this war if you'd returned to Heaven and took the lead", Hannah said stubbornly.

"They wouldn't have accepted me", Castiel countered. "You know that."

"There were many who would had."

"And just as many who wouldn't, and what should I had done to them? Force them to surrender under my leadership? Kill them, maybe?"

"Maybe."

Castiel shook his head. "I would had no right for that."

"There was a time when you were ready to surrender your morals for the sake of greater good", Hannah said with disappointed tone.

"I've changed."

"So I see." Why was she looking at him like that, with that desperate look in her eyes? Why did she look like she would start to cry?

"Hannah…"

"I hoped", she said, her voice stranded, "when I saw you outside… I hoped that maybe you were back – the old you. That you'd came to lead us into the victory, like you did once before… That Heaven could still be possible to reunite. But… it seems that it was a fools hope." Her breath shuddered.

"Hannah", Castiel repeated, with more gentleness, and she flinched.

"I hate this!" Hannah shouted at him. "This weak human body… with all these feelings…! I – why Heaven isn't enough for you anymore? Why aren't I enough?" And there was tears in her eyes, running down on her cheeks and dropping down from the point of her chin, falling to her blouse and on the ground. "Why does it always have to be about  _him!?_ "

And Castiel, who finally understood just how right Fergus had been with his words about Hannah earlier today, felt shame rise in to his throat and lifted his arms as to embrace his crying companion but let them then drop on his sides, feeling useless and inconsiderate and so out-of-depths here, and hoped that Aziraphale were there, with his soft words and compassion and tea… But he weren't, and Castiel was, and he didn't know what to do, so the words he next chose might have been the worst once to utter in that situation.

"I'm sorry."

Hannah let out a shriek and threw herself against him, abandoning her angelblade and letting it fell on the ground in the sake of hitting his chest with her fist while crying and sobbing and screaming at him.

Castiel felt light-headed and little nauseous and hoped against all hope that something, anything would happen and safe him from this situation; and then there was a hand on his shoulder, a warm, steady body against his side, and someone else gently pulling Hannah away from him while hushing her with a gentle voice.

Castiel turned to look at Dean, standing on his side, and did nothing to hide the relief shining from his eyes. The hunter smiled at him, and they turned to look at Sam, who was holding Hannah loosely in his embrace and uttering soft, placating words in a litany.

"Why did you came?" Castiel whispered. "I wasn't in danger…"

Dean leaned closer, his breath tickling Castiel's ear as he whispered back, "Because you weren't getting anything more out of her, and it was clear that the situation was completely out of your control. And", he added, "you never know what hysteric people with broken heart might decide to do."

"Thank you for coming", Castiel said quietly, "the both of you."

Hannah had finally realized what had happened, and pushed Sam away from him, making him stagger few steps backwards. She swept down to grab her blade and pointed it towards the younger hunter, who in turn held his hands up in placating manner; Dean cursed while his hand went to the holder of his gun, but he didn't pull it out yet.

"Hannah, we mean you no harm", Sam said with calm voice. "We just wanted to make sure that you were both okay…"

Hannah sneered, and her eyes looked for Castiel, narrowing into the slits as she saw Dean standing beside him, one arm still on his shoulder. "I can see that", she hissed, glaring draggers at Dean who glowered back at her and wound his arm over Castiel's shoulders, pulling him closer. "You may as well take him with you,  _right now_ … Seeing how you've already ruined him." Her eyes met Castiel's, filled with tears and grudge. "You better stay away from now on, Castiel." With tense shoulders, she turned around and started to walk away, her movements stiff and unrelenting.

Dean's eyes narrowed out of irritation and he seemed to be ready to shout something rude after Hannah, but Castiel caught his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Please", he said, "let her go."

"Like she'd any right to talk to you like that", Dean insisted heatedly. "She wont get to first throw a temper tantrum and then act all high and mighty just because you didn't answer to her feelings."

"Dean, she's new with all this – having all these feelings and not knowing how to deal with them. She's overwhelmed, and I can't blame her of that." Castiel looked sadly after her, as Hannah vanished from their sight inside the warehouse building. "I have had far more time to get used to what they're just now encountering, yet even I do miscalculations. If only I'd realized her feelings earlier…"

"Then what?" Dean asked challengingly. "You'd gone with her?"

"No, but maybe I'd know better words to reject her, once that wouldn't had ended up hurting her so…"

"Maybe's and if's wont change the past, Cass", Sam told to him softly. "You did nothing wrong; she'll understand that once she's calmed down a bit."

"And even if she doesn't, it's not your problem", Dean said firmly, and that marked end of that conversation. "Come on, let's head back; too bad that we had to go through all this drama for nothing…"

"I wouldn't say "nothing", Dean", Sam said, and the others turned to stare at him. "We didn't got much out of it, but something at least. First, we know that Metatron used a spell, that both banishes the angels – and take point of this: they're indeed  _banished_ , AKA forced out, not  _fallen_  like Anna or Anthony or even Lucifer – AND puts Heaven on the lockdown; and two, we know that simply undoing his spell wont stop the war between angels from happening."

"And much joy does that do to us…" Dean mumbled.

Sam frowned at him. "Maybe you've forgotten, but Bela will bring us to witch; we can make her to help us to counter that spell, if we manage to find out which one it is, and since we already know it's effects and what particles was used to it, that shouldn't be all too difficult. As what comes to the other part… It gives us a clear answer of what must be done to safe Heaven from the civil war."

Castiel looked at him, feeling fragile hope rising inside of him. "And what is that?" he asked.

Sam smile was melancholic. "We need to find an angel that all sides can accept as a leader of Heaven."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should warn you all right now that for sure that Amara isn't coming into this story, at least not in person; I still hope that I might be able to put a discussion about her in somewhere... she was a great character. The thing just is that in my verse, she and Chuck are both totally omnipotents, and them clashing together directly and not through "presentatives" would induce not only end of the world but the end of the multiverse altogether, as it has done so at least four times in the past (> Five Suns of the Aztec mythology - I really like to blend everything together, don't I?). That said, Amara has and always has had presentatives in the world, even during her imprisonment, as has Chuck; at one point, those were Cain and Abel, as well as Lucifer and Michael (and as I'm a Nordic mythology freak, it shouldn't come as a suprise that their names during one of the earlier cycles were Vali and Narfi...). I didn't much care of how weak they both were made in the show all things considered, though I liked how they made up in the end.


	11. The Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bela brings the witch in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late, and like super short, but I'm having a flu and this is all I have to offer right now. And happy new year to everyone!

"No, I'm certainly not interested!"

"But, Aziraphale…"

"Really, Castiel, I'd thought that you would know me better than this by now!" Aziraphale told to the younger angel.

They were sitting in the room that the Winchesters had given for Aziraphale and Anthony – well, the older angel and the fallen were sitting, at least; Castiel was standing little awkwardly on the doorway.

The younger angel sighed. "I know, but we don't have anyone else that we could ask to take this position."

"And you expect me to became the leader of Heaven? Me? The angel who haven't even visited there who knows in how many centuries?" Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "Besides, I've never lead anything; I wouldn't even know where to start. Isn't that right, dear?" he added, turning towards Anthony who was sitting beside him, deep in his thoughts.

"… Um, what?" the fallen asked, clearly having listened nothing of their conversation.

"Just agree with me, dear."

"Oh. Yeah, right. You're right, not that I know of what you're right about…"

"That's enough, dear", Aziraphale said while gentle patting Anthony's hand. "Em… What's up with you, anyway? You've been unusually absentminded ever since boys returned…"

Anthony tilted his head. "Something just came to my mind… I'll have to think it over before turning it out for you."

"I see. Well, not wait too long with it, then, dear."

Castiel tried to put in again. "But, Aziraphale…"

"Castiel", Aziraphale said with a strict voice, "I'm not the angel you're looking for. I just want my bookshop, my collection, and spent time with my Anthony. And neither of those I can do in Heaven. I know that it's selfish, but I'm not changing my mind in this. You need to find someone else."

Defeated, Castiel let his shoulders slump a bit. "But who else is out there?" he asked. "I thought that maybe Hannah, but then things got all messy between us and I don't know if other fraction would ever be ready to follow her now that she's already fighting with them."

Aziraphale looked at him with sympathy. "It's never easy when brother rises against another brother", he said, and from the tired look that crossed his face Castiel guessed that he was remembering the time of Lucifer's rebellion. It crossed his mind that he'd never asked Aziraphale about those days, or that the older angel might had lost many close friends at that time; some might had even fallen by his sword.

_At least Anthony's "sauntering" downwards came later_ , Castiel thought with little relief.

Just then Sam peaked in the room. "Ah, there you are! Bela just called – she's bringing the witch."

* * *

They were all already on the door and waiting with anticipation when Bela arrived, dragging a heavily bound woman behind her. The woman – the witch, Dean corrected himself – had a sack pulled over her head so that it was impossible to see what she looked like below it, and some sort of collar around her neck that looked downright malevolent.

"Put some efforts on security, didn't you?" Fergus commented dryly (and Dean had no idea when he'd started to refer the ex-demon by his given name inside his head, but for sure he wouldn't let anyone else to know it).

"Bela dear, are you sure that all this", Aziraphale motioned towards the witch with a look of symphaty upon his face, "is necessary?"

"Watch it – this bitch is a troublesome one", Bela answered. She was possessing a different body than last time, which was unusual since as far as Dean knew, the demons normally liked to return in a familiar flesh; the girl whose body she wore had bright blue hair, which probably wasn't their natural color, and grey eyes, and there was no way that she was legal yet.

"What's with the bodyswap? Did earlier get broken already?" he asked, with little venom in his voice since he still wasn't okay with the fact that there was a demon standing before him that he wasn't allowed to exorcise.

Bela quirked her eyebrow. "Little grumpy, aren't we?" she said. "I'll let you know, that there's always people around there who actually seek to be possessed – either be gods, demons or angels."

Sam frowned. "You search people from cults to host you?"

"Only day or few at time; now that I'm no longer bound into a one body, why not enjoy the variety? As for them, it's like a trip without drugs – and they never remember anything afterwards."

Dean snorted. "Well, ain't that just comforting – especially to those who never make it back because you get into fight with someone bigger and uglier than what you are and get stabbed. Or pushed out of the window. Or drove over…"

"Why am I getting the idea that that's happened to the many possessed person that you've encountered along the way?" Bela snarked back. "Besides, they know the risks – Not that I'm planning to get in any brawl, but miscalculations can always happen…"

"Can we concentrate to the point, idjits?" Bobby exclaimed. "Thank you. So, do you think this witch will prove to be useful to us, Bela?"

The demoness shrugged. "I believe so. She's powerful, based on of what I've seen, and doesn't have a coven, so there's nobody coming after you to claim her back."

Bobby nodded. "Good thinking", he praised gruffly.

Dean smirked. "So what about we get this witch to the interrogation room and see just what kind of fish we have in our hook?"

Fergus rolled his eyes. "How charmingly said."

The witch kept struggling and making muffled sounds under the sack as they dragged her downstairs and shackled her down on the chair in interrogation room. Dean turned to look the others and waited their nods before he took hold of the sack and pulled it away, finally revealing the witch.

She'd red hair, that was now cut short in a ragged way that suggested that she at least hadn't insisted it to be done. The witch's eyes were bright and her face weren't ugly by any means but her make-up had went totally messy and she was sneering as best as she could with gag in her mouth, making her look rather unappealing at whole.

And then there was a noise that sounded like one of an wounded animal.

It took them a moment to realize that it was Fergus who was making that voice. The ex-demon staggered back a bit and would probably had fallen down on the floor had Bobby not be standing beside him and gotten hold of him.

"Fergus?" Anthony called quickly, seconded by Aziraphale's "Dear?", and Bobby held the ex-demon from the shoulders and shook him a bit, worried look all over his face. "Fergus? What's wrong? Snap it out!"

But Fergus was staring at the witch, who stared right back before letting her gaze wander to Anthony where it lingered a moment before returning to Fergus, and now there was smugness written all over her face that really didn't sit well with Dean.

"Fergus, talk to me! What is it?" Bobby kept insisting.

The ex-demon turned his head towards the old hunter and said, with a lost, hurt look in his eyes, "That's my mother."

And maybe it proved just how much Dean and Sam really were Bobby's boys because they all shouted "Balls!" in exactly the same time.


	12. Blackmailing the Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk with Rowena; also Az showing up his more badass self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had this chapter rather well planned before starting to write it, yet it was still suprisingly hard to finish in time... Maybe because I really don't have any clear idea of what to do with Rowena after this.

They managed to drag Fergus out of the room and close the door behind them, preventing the ex-demon from seeing the mirthful look on her eyes – and how on earth was it that a bound witch who couldn't so much lift a finger or mutter a word had nerve to look so smug?  _Must run in the family_ , Bobby thought darkly, remembering that Fergus himself used to act the same way every time when he and the boys had got him cornered.  _Good old times…_

"What you mean, she's your mother?" he insisted. " _That_  mother? Back from Scotland?" Bobby had hard time to connect the woman from some of Fergus dinner stories to the… woman… on the other room; but if it indeed was the same person, well, he had few words to say for her.

"Yes, I still have only one mother, darling", Fergus said with a voice that tried to sound suave but failed badly in it. "And if it's her age that baffles you, remember, that she IS a witch; they use their power to live longer than regular humans do…" He was horribly pale, and Bobby pretended to not feel just how tightly the-ex-demon hold on him, as if he was afraid to fall right through the floor if he dared to let go. Not that Bobby was planning to let go any time soon, either.

He turned to look at Anthony. "Why didn't you recognize her?"

The fallen shrugged, looking little nervous and more than little worried for his son's sake. "I only encountered her once, and like I told you, I was kinda drunk, and then she probably put something to my drink, and… So, no clear memories from that night."

Sam got a little disturbed expression over his face. "Put something to your drink…?" he repeated.

Anthony looked even more nervous. "Um, you see, I – I won't normally put effort on it, having a gender, I mean, and, er, I'm not big fan of those sort of intercourses, so I guess that what ever she gave to me had something to do with it…"

Dean had went little wide-eyed. "Dude, that sounds like you were date-raped!"

"It – well, I might be…? Not that there was a word for that, back then…"

"Or that anyone thought that man even  _could_  be raped", Aziraphale said testily and hugged his demon, who accepted with a little smile.

"I think that some people are still having a hard time to digest that nowadays", Sam said.

"Um, right… But, right now, should we concentrate to the current situation?" Anthony said, making a gesture towards his son. Bobby, who had already been trying to think up a way to ask just that without sounding a completely bastard, offered him a slight, relieved smile.

"Right", Sam admitted. "…Would probably be best to keep those to as far away from each other as possible."

Fergus bristled by that. "Excuse me, Moose? Are you planning to shun me out of this case? Think that I can't handle being near her, do you?" He hissed angrily; apparently Sam words, which the ex-demon could only take as a slight towards himself, had finally shaken him out of his stupor, which Bobby was grateful of even while the timing wasn't the best of all.

Sam lifted his hands up placatingly. "I'm just saying –"

"Saying  _what_ , exactly? Do I need to remind you that I'm the only one of us who actually knows that sly bitch? Are you really thinking that it's wise for you to face her without me there to call her out of her bullshit?"

"Yeah, because you were doing just a terrific job just a couple minutes ago…" Dean muttered, making Fergus whip his head towards him.

"I was taken by surprise! Don't you try to tell me that you wouldn't have reacted the same way, have it been you in the same situation?" he said with malicious voice.

"Well, I've had my encounters with long-lost relatives before, some of them who should have been dead for who knows how long, but never have I gone catatonic like you just did!" Dean growled back.

"I wasn't catatonic!"

"Dean, please", Sam said at the same time as Bobby turned Fergus back towards himself. "Fergus, let's talk about this –"

"What there's to talk about? I'm well now, so let's go back and make moth- make that woman to perform the spell so that we can get rid of her."

"And that really sounds that you're feeling just well…" Dean said, but either Fergus didn't hear it (which was doubtful) or just decided that it wouldn't help his case to rise to the bait again.

Anthony cleared his throat. "I wouldn't like to speak against you, son, but I too think that you should stay out of this one."

"Father –"

"She's your weakest spot, Fergus, and right now poking at those spots won't do you any good."

Fergus smirked sardonically. "Because I'm human now, right? That's what you're trying to say, isn't it. I hate to break this to you, father, but just because I no longer have my demon powers doesn't equal that I'm suddenly made of glass!"

Anthony crossed his arms over his chest. "And I hate to point this out to you, but we've all witnessed that you're not currently handling your feelings very well."

"It's all understandable, since you've lived so long without them, dear", Aziraphale added. "And even while you were still a demon, just mentioning your… mother… has always been enough to cause you great anxiety."

Fergus had only time to open his mouth to argument before Anthony step forward and pressed his hand gently on his shoulder. "You know that we're only worrying about your well-being because we love you."

 _Burn._  Bobby knew that Fergus was still weak to any expressions of love, especially coming from his father. And as he'd anticipated, the ex-demon relented almost immediately, though he still looked displeased (and probably only prevented to showing his displeasure any clearer because of the audience – Bobby himself had once referred Fergus pouting face as "cute", and lived on canned beans a whole week after that before his apologies were declared sincere enough.).

"Fine", Fergus said with a leisure smirk and a voice that tried too hard to nonchalant and put his hand in his pockets, "if you've decided to be like this, I'll go; I had better things to do anyways than play family meeting with  _mommy dearest_. Like prepare us something edible to eat." After saying that, he turned around and walked away.

They all watched after him. "Should we really let him be all alone right now?" Sam asked, putting in words what they all were thinking.

"Yeah; not that I think that he's hiding somewhere to cry his heart out, but company probably wouldn't do any harm…"

"I could go with Fergus", Castiel offered. "We all can probably agree that I'm the most useless one in what comes to interrogations…"

"Don't sell yourself short", Dean said firmly. "But maybe it's best that you stay with him." He smirked slyly. "Who knows, maybe he'll now teach you how to make that pie that should help you to catch my heart…"

Castiel blushed furiously. "Dean! Besides", he then added, with tiny grin, "I thought that I already had that handled pretty well?"

And then it was Dean's time to blush. "You-! Gah, maybe I shouldn't let you spent this much time with Crowley; I swear he's rubbing on you!"

"I don't know", Sam said with a teasing voice, "it might actually be a good thing if he does."

Dean coughed. "Fine, enough of that! Are we now ready to face the bitch?"

"In a moment", Bobby said, and turned to look at Bela, who was still with them, with a hard look in his eyes. "If I ever find out that you knew about their relation…"

Bela scoffed. "Honestly? Just how vile do you think that I am?"

"Are you sure you want to hear my answer to that?" Dean asked.

Bela glared at him before looking Bobby straight in the eyes. "I admit, that it wouldn't bother me too much to put any of you others in this situation", she said with steady voice, "But Fergus has been fair to me; even kind, in his own way, and in a situation where no-one was expecting it from him. So if I someday end up betraying him, it wouldn't be over something as trivial as this."

Bobby stared into her eyes searchingly before nodding. "I believe you."

"'If you end up betraying him'?" Dean cried out. "So you admit that it might be the case on one day?"

The demoness shrugged. "No-one knows the future, so I was trying to be as honest as possible. Take it or leave it."

"I take it", Bobby said quickly, before Dean had time to reply. "Now let's get this done…"

* * *

"Now where did you hide my son, gentlemen?" the witch said as soon as her gag was removed. "I swear he was with you last time… But what on earth has happened to him?" she continued with a fake astonishment. "I swear that was not how a expected him to grow up to look like…"

"You won't get to talk about him", Bobby growled, and then berated himself from the reaction; now need to give this woman any more cards than she already thought she had.

The witch blinked her eyes, looking innocent. "Testy, testy… What are you to him, exactly? His  _partner_?"

"No your business."

The witch lifted her eyebrow. "As Fergus  _mother_ , I think it is my business with  _whom_  he spends his time with…"

Bobby barked a short laugh. " _Mother?_  Giving yourself little too much credit here, aren't you?"

There was hand on his shoulder and then Sam stepped beside him. "What if Dean and I continue from this?" he said with little resigned voice. "Since it seems that this is being little too personal for you."

Of course Bobby's first thought was to tell the boy put down that attitude, but hadn't he just a moment before made Fergus to leave for exactly the same reason? So he just grunted and stepped aside, giving the boys room to work.

"So, witch –" Dean started, only to be interrupted by said person.

"My name's Rowena MacLeod."

"Like I care."

She sighed. "So rude men… but what could one expect from a bunch of hunters? Hunters who have very strange associates", she added, looking at Anthony with a smirk. "Isn't that right, honey?"

The fallen took immediately a hesitant step back, and Aziraphale came to stand in front of him, severe look upon his face.

Rowena frowned. "And you… I don't recognize. Who are you, exactly?"

"I'm Aziraphale, a Principality and an angel of Lord", Az answered, and made that trick with his wings that Castiel had used so long time ago to prove his claim to Dean and Bobby.

"How… charming. And you, dearie – you must be a demon, right?" the witch said to Bela. "Interesting group – three hunters, a demon, a Fallen, and an angel… So what about my son and the man with a coat? Are they maybe a vampire and a werewolf?" she said with a wide eyes that fooled no-one.

"Like already said, that's not your business", Sam said sternly. "You were brought here for a reason: there's a spell we want you to translate for us."

One of Rowena's eyebrows was slightly lifted. "Is that so? Because there's easier ways to ask for a favor."

Dean grinned. "Who said anything about asking?"

Sam nodded. "We aren't planning to play games with you. If you do the spell, we'll let you go. If you decline, we'll let you here to rot and find another witch with little more common sense. Those are your options."

Rowena laughed. "You think you can keep me here? How long, exactly? I'm a witch; given time, I'll find my way out. And sooner or later, my Coven will come after you, too…"

Sam shook his head. "Cut the act. We know that you're part of no Coven, and even more, that the Grand Coven isn't happy with you. We've encountered a witch before that was sent by them to look for you – to  _kill you_. Of course, back them we didn't know who it was that she was searching, but then Bela mentioned you and a connected the dots. NO-ONE's coming for you, Rowena."

She glared Sam with hatred before sneering at them. "If that's so, then what's the point to run? I can all as well stay right here…"

Dean huffed. "Locked in the basement with a collar on your neck to prevent you from using magic, and shackled up so that you can hardly move a finger? Yeah, I'm sure that you would be content to spend rest of your days like that…"

"Besides, when I said we would let you here to rot… well, I didn't said that you would need to be alive, did I?" Sam added.

Rowena was taking very deep breaths, her whole body going stiff of anger and and her neck and cheeks flushing with furious red. "You maggots…"

"And if you still think that you can wiggle your way out… Me and my brother aren't simply hunters. We're also Men of Letters; and I'm sure that we can find a ways to make your remaining time here very interesting indeed…"

Bobby had to admire Sam's poker face, even if it reminded him horribly how he had looked back when he was still without a soul and ready to even kill Bobby to prevent ever getting it back.

Bela sifted beside him. "He really has grown a lot, hasn't he? Oh, I've missed so much during my time in Hell…"

"No messing with him", Bobby warned her gravely.

Bela shrugged. "Just saying~" she sing-songed, concentrating once again to the show they were given.

Bobby shook his head; the demoness really acted very similarly as Fergus did, so much actually that if someone had told him that they really were father and daughter, he wouldn't have been all that surprised. He also knew that if she decided to go after Sam, may it be just for curiosity or to prove that she could, the poor boy would have no better changes against her than what he'd had with his own demon.

"So, how is it, Rowena?" Sam said to the witch. "Have you decided? …Or should we give you some more time to think?"

The witch's eyes were blazing like promising immediate demise to them all, before she took a breath, schooled her expression to much more calmer one, and said, "Well, then: bring me the spell to translate and we can began."

Dean frowned of suspicion and crossed his arms. "Just like that, huh?"

Rowena smiled serenely, as if she'd never been peeved in the first place. "Oh, but there's no way to argue with your logic, or is there? You won't let me go before I do as you say; so, the sooner I agree the sooner I get rid of this blasted collar, right?"

"Right", Sam drawled out.

The witch blinked her eyes innocently. "You don't trust to me?" she asked with a wavering voice.

"We aren't stupid", Dean shot back. "And what about you? Are you really ready to trust that we keep our word and really let you go after this is over?"

"I'm going to put my trust in that I'm having this conversation with men of honor", the witch replied. She looked way too calm and collected, and Bobby really wanted to punch that smug smile away from her face.

"Fine", Sam said with a stern nod. "Aziraphale, the grimoire, please? And you, Rowena… Remember, we're looking your every movement."

* * *

It actually didn't take all that long time from Rowena to give them a translation. Bobby read over Sam's shoulder while he skimmed it through.

"What do you think?" the younger hunter asked with a hushed voice.

"It seems plausible", Bobby admitted, "but then again, my understanding of spell's aren't very high. Maybe we should ask Fergus' opinion, first?"

"Not a bad idea."

"Yoohoo? Boys? Aren't you forgetting something?" Rowena called after them.

"Oh, right", Dean muttered, and walked back to the witch, putting the gag back to her mouth. "We'll release you after we've tested the spell. And if it doesn't work, well… Let's say that I would hate to be in your shoes if that happens!" He leered at the glaring witch. Then he followed Bobby and Sam out of the door. "Hey, what about you two? You're coming, too?" He asked from Anthony and Aziraphale.

"You should go, dear; I'll stay a bit", the angel said to his partner.

Anthony's face looked troubled. "Angel…"

"Do not be worried, my dear", Az assured him. "I'll just keep an eye on her to make sure that she won't get any ideas."

Bobby had his doubts that when the angel said "keep an eye on her" he actually meant "give her piece of my mind"; but since that was exactly what he wanted to do (and would, after they first got this spell-thing under control), he really couldn't criticize Aziraphale here, could he now?

So finally he said, "Fine, just… remember that she might still be useful for us", before dragging Anthony with them out of the door.

* * *

As soon as door was closed behind the other, Aziraphale walked in front of the witch; not that he actually wanted to be that close of such a vile thing, but he wanted to look her in the eyes while he gave her his speech. Rowena's chin tensed but she glared back with defiant.

"For a longest time, I've wanted to have a little chat with you", Az started, "to see, if there's even an inch of remorse in you for the atrocities you've committed against those who I hold dear. You see, I have been taught by my father that you should always forgive those who do a slight against you; that you should love the sinner and seek goodness from everyone. So, I promised to myself that if I ever met you, and if there was anything human enough in you to feel regret, I would forgive you."

He sighed. "But there isn't. You're nothing but an empty husk, moved only by your ambitiousness, your constant search for glory and recognition… Even if there once was a sad, lonely young woman inside your heart, screaming for love, she died a long time ago, and was buried under resentment, bitterness and hatred."

Aziraphale stepped back and said, now louder, "You're hardly even a human anymore, even less than few of those that you call demons who I've encountered. And so I only tell you this: Anthony and Fergus are dear to me, more than any other beings in the world – and you've hurt them both in a ways that can't be undone. In some deep, secret part of his heart Fergus will forever believe that he can't be loved, since even his own mother couldn't bother to do so, and Anthony will always feel guilty because he wasn't there for his son when he was young. I can't remove their pain or wash away the scars you left in them, but never will I allow you to hurt them again."

There was steel in his voice when he continued, and he knew that he was letting his true for to shine through the form he was wearing, because the witch's eyes were wide open and face as pale as dead ones. "So I promise you: If you scheme against them, or try to use them for your own gain… I'll kill you. No games, no second changes; you hurt them, and you'll die. Don't think that that's an empty threat; I've once took a stand against Lucifer, and you are  _nothing_  to compare."

Then he walked back to the other side of the room. "That's all I need you to know… witch." And nothing else was said before Castiel little later came to fetch him to the upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should just left Az to kill her off...


	13. The Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the spell is finally performed.

Castiel watched silently as Fergus read the translated spell through few times with concentrated frown before nodding. "Yes, I think this is accurate. I know few spells little similar than this, and all additions seem to be there only to make it more potent and go through any shielding's that may be put upon the item – holy or otherwise."

Castiel was sure that it took a lot from him to sound so collected; before, when he'd followed Fergus to kitchen, he'd saw the ex-demon standing in front of the sink, leaning over it as he'd just emptied his stomach into it, his shoulders trembling either of rage or tears. Castiel hadn't known what to do, because he was sure that even in this situation Fergus wouldn't simply allow the angel to hug him or anything like that, so he'd just stood there awkwardly until Fergus took a deep breath and started to prepare carrots and potatoes for the soup, scrubbing them rather vehemently.

"Do you think you would be able to perform it?" Sam asked quickly – it was quite clear that he didn't want to let a witch as scheming as Rowena seemed to be anywhere near any devises that could be used for a spell.

Fergus scratched his neck. "Well, I could try, but…", he said, not wanting to simply admit that it may be too much for his talents in witchcraft.

"So it really needs to be Rowena, then", Dean said, sounding defeated.

Bobby, who had seemed to be deep in his thoughts, raised suddenly his head and said, "Not necessarily." As they turned to look at him, they could see the dark amusement in his eyes while he continued, "I was just thinking… Just how much do you think the other witches detest Rowena? Because I think that you could do us another favor, Bela…"

* * *

Fergus was laying on his bed in the room that Winchesters had graciously given to him, hugging Juliet like she was some overgrown teddy bear and concentrated to keep himself calm. Part of him wanted to rush into the interrogation room, and… and what, exactly? Shout accusations? Demand answers for the questions he'd keep asking ever since his mother had abandoned him, if not longer? Or maybe just beg for her forgiveness and love, like so many times before…

Juliet lifting her head with her tail wagging told Fergus that someone was coming even before there was a silent knock on the door. "It's me", he heard Bobby calling, in which Juliet answered with a happy bark. "Can I come in?"

Sighing, the ex-demon sat up, his Hellhound jumping dutifully on the floor. "It's your room, too, you know."

"I'm trying to be understanding and tactful", the old hunter answered dryly as he stepped in, patting Juliet's head as she went circling around him. Growley followed Bobby in and laid down on the corner of the room, clearly satisfied that all those he was supposed to guard were once again in the same place, under his dutiful eyes.

Fergus rolled his eyes. "You'll never pass as tactful, honey", he said with a smile. "I know you want to ask something, so please do."

Bobby nodded. "Right, then", he said and looked Fergus straight in the eyes. "Are you sure you're okay with this? Meaning our plans what to do with your… with Rowena."

Even while Fergus had waited that question, he still needed to take a few calming breaths before answering, "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

Bobby shrugged. "She's still the woman who gave birth to you… thought that was probably most she ever did as a mother."

"Well, I've gotten over it", Fergus said, and as the hunter still kept staring at him skeptically, he shouted, "It's not like there are plenty other options, right? We cannot just let her to walk away, because now that she knows about me she'd certainly come back to cause us problems, and neither can we keep her here forever."

"We could always kill her."

Fergus blanched. "Wh-what?"

Bobby walked over to sit beside him on the bed. "It wouldn't be first time for us to kill a witch; hunters, you know."

Fergus laughed shakily. "W-well, why didn't you then just do so?"

"I don't know. Maybe we've all been waiting for you to ask us to do it. Or command, more likely."

Fergus was momently speechless, and that surely didn't happen to him very often.

Since there were no counter arguments, Bobby continued, "But since you didn't say it, we – well, we kind of came to the conclusion that you either didn't want to or simply couldn't do so… because she's your mother. And I can understand why", he added, almost hurriedly, "because, well – I really hated my old man, you know? Sometimes when he beat me up I just really,  _really_  wanted to kill him; heck, I'd dreams of doing that! And yet I never would had done so because – because he was still my father, and… part of me didn't want to give up of the hope that one day we could still reconcile. And I think – I know – that it's same with you, especially now that you've got your soul back and with it all that baggage of feelings." He seemed little red after finishing that little speech, since, well – no chick-flick moments, right?

Fergus huffed sardonically. "So instead of doing it by yourself you just decided to bring the third party in to finish the dirty work? To spare my,  _oh, so fragile_ , feelings?"

"Yup", Bobby answered simply.

They were silent for a moment. "The lives we're living are really messed up, aren't they?" Fergus finally chuckled.

Bobby smirked back to him. "You said it." Then he stood up. "Well, come on, then; when the boys went to do some shopping earlier the day I asked him to bring ice-cream… still not letting you to eat more than one can, though… and then I told them that we would overtake the TV-room for the evening so they would know to make themselves scarce, so… Let's go watch some stupid chick-flick from the Netflix", he said, bit a flush on his face as he offered his hand to pull Fergus up.

The ex-demon stared him few seconds before accepting the aid and as soon as he was standing he planted a chaste kiss over the hunter's lips. "And I can cuddle with you all I want during it?" he ensured.

Bobby sighed defeatedly. "If you need to", he said, but there was a look in his eyes that told Fergus that he wasn't as against of the good cuddling as he wanted to make it seem.

Fergus laughed and kissed him again, this time way more heatedly, in which Bobby soon answered with the same manner. "Well, then…", Fergus said afterwards, now panting a bit, "show the way!"

* * *

Rowena was seething. She had no idea how long she'd been kept locked down in this windowless room, but she suspected that it had been at least a day or two. No-one visited her, either to interrogate or torment her, which even while unpleasant would at least had offered her a bit entertainment. Her isolation was only interrupted when the two younger hunters stepped in to give her water and something to eat, and even then they didn't unbound her arms, but feed her like she was a baby or disabled. They never said a word to her, even while she used every trick she had to bait them, and left as soon as they could. Rowena could almost taste their scorn towards her.

And she still had no clue when she would be released –  _if_  they were even going to hold their words and do that in the first place!

If only she could talk with Fergus… she know that she would be able to get him to let her go. She'd been surprised by her sons new look, but it hadn't take a lot to guess that he was probably a demon now, wearing another poor bastard's body just like that blue-haired bitch who'd captured her in the first place. Of course there had been this strange lack of demonic aura around the boy –  _man!_  – but there were probably many possible explanations for that. More than that, the look in his eyes had still been same as ever; that longing gaze she'd often felt been sent towards her, and which she'd just as often ignored. She'd no use for the boy, then – the only use that he could have been for her had been wasted before he'd even been born!

_Those blind fools… I offered them more power than they could ever imagine, and they refused just because they were scared! Well, we can all see just how much good their refusal has made to them… Men of Letters have destroyed Coven after another and stolen all our most important items and Grimoires. Hah, serves them right! Always so high and mighty, looking down at me and spouting their self-righteous speeches – just like that damn angel…!_

Just thinking about the said angel made Rowena grit her teeth.  _What right does he think that he has to judge me? He has no idea of all the hardships that I've had to bear!_

Sound of the opening door made her lift her head; it was the two hunters, of course.

"Is it dinner time already?" Rowena asked airily, "Because it seems like you forget to bring my plate", she added while looking pointedly to their empty hands.

"No", said the shortie, "We just got tired to look at your ugly face and decided to kick you out."

Totally not expecting that, Rowena furrowed her brown. "Your letting me go? Just like that?"

"That was the promise, right?" the cuter hunter said while opening the shackles that kept the witch bound on the chair and helping her to stand up. "You translate the script and we let you go your merry way."

"Ah – well, it sure is good to see that good manners haven't been completely forgotten, then", Rowena said with a flirty voice, that held no effect to the stoic hunters.  _Hmph, whatever…_  Then her hands were bound together behind her back. "Is that really necessary? Or do you boys just like to play it rough?"

The older brother scoffed while pulling a familiar sack over her head. "Start walking. We'll remove the restraints after you're far enough from our bunker so that you cannot just try to slither right back in."

_Oh, believe me, as soon as the collar comes out I'll put you pay for all of this_ , Rowena thought venomously.

She was lead through the bunker; finally they ended up into a room that Rowena guessed being a bigger hall, considering the temperature drop; when the smell of oil came to her nose, she knew that they were in a garage –  _No_ , she corrected herself,  _It's bigger – a parking hall?_

A car door was opened, and she was given a push on her back; "Get inside", said the gruff voice, that had to belong to that old hunter who was with her son.  _How did that even happen in the first place?_  she thought while sitting down on the backseat of a car and being strapped in.  _Fergus really has a rotten taste in what comes to males…_

That reminded her – "Where's my son? Isn't he going to say bye to his own mother?"

"Don't you dare to-" started the old hunter, but he was interrupted by the other, smokey voice saying, "It's okay, Bobby – I can handle this."

_So he is there._ "Fergus, dearie… Is this any way to let people treat your mother?" Rowena said, making her voice sound shaky and appalled.

Fergus snorted. "No, it isn't… But as it is, you never really were much of a mother, were you now?"

"Fergus, that hurts me, to hear you saying such an accusations! I only left you to keep you safe from the Coven, they were after me and could have hurt you…"

"If it's so, the why didn't you contact my father and asked him to take me in? Don't try to tell me that you didn't know where to find him; there's a lot of ways you could have used to find that out!"

"But he's a demon, darling, how could I had let him to raise a child? He could have turned you into something as evil as himself – and eventually he did, didn't he? You are a demon now, aren't you, Fergus? Wearing someone else's skin and fooling poor souls with your wickedness…"

There was a sharp intake of a breath, and she smiled under the sack after recognizing it as Crowley.  _So he'd came too…_

"Don't you dare", Fergus said, now clear hatred in his voice. "What father did, he did for me – but that's not your business, anyway. See, when people call me "son of bitch", I always used to correct them by saying, "son of witch, actually"; but now that I think about it, they might have been right in the first place. Remember that cross-breeded dam you bought to nurse me? Well, if you really think about it,  _she_  was my mom, because she actually loved me – something that you never managed to do. And a longest time I thought why, and believed that if I only knew what it was that made you hate me so I could do better and somehow deserve your love – but that's not how it works. You cannot "deserve" love, because it can only be freely given, not something that you can bought with your action… Not that I expect you to understand what that means." He took a deep breath, and then leaned over, because now his voice was lower and came right beside her ear. "I don't even know why I came to here – maybe just to seek some kind of closure. The thing is… You cannot hurt me anymore, because now I have a – family. People who… care about me. And that's why I have to give up of my hate towards you, because that's what caused me to screw it over in the last time, and I'm not going to let my second change go to waste just because of you." He stepped back. "So, farewell, Rowena – let's not meet up again, shall we?"

Then there were the footsteps, telling her that the boy – a man! – left the parking hall.

Rage flooded through her.  _How dare he…!_  She opened her mouth to screech after him, but right then the door was slammed close, and she was left fuming in silence.

* * *

"So", Dean said, "are you sure you can handle this alone? I could still come with you –"

Sam sighed; this had been talked over a dozen times already. "Do you really want to sit on the backseat with her, Dean? Beside, I'm not  _alone_  – Aziraphale and Bela are coming too."

"Yeah, and don't get this wrong, but while Az is okay guy for an angel, he's really not the fighting type, or is he now? As what comes to Bela… Are you sure that we can trust her?"

The last part was said with a hushed voice, but of course the demoness heard them. "One would thought that after aiding you by capturing the witch and then organizing this meeting I had proved my usefulness to you", Bela said bitingly. She'd abandoned her previous teenager-look and was now stunningly beautiful woman in their thirties with a chocolate-brown skin.

"So far so good, but you've betrayed us before and as the phrase goes, "fool me once…""

Bela rolled her eyes. "Still about that? What do you want, an apology?"

"Hey, you tried to kill us!"

"Oh, get real! What else was I supposed to do? I was trying to safe my soul!"

"Well, bu-huu! Besides you seem to be faring rather fine without one – if you ever even had a soul in the first place to lost!"

"You-!"

Sam stepped to stand between them to stop the fight before someone got stabbed. "Dean, stand back. At this moment, Bela is our ally; besides, don't you think that we're the last people to criticize others from their poor choises in life?" Then he turned to look at the demon and Aziraphale. "We should get going; the faster this is over the better, right?"

They climbed to the car; Sam behind the wheel, Az behind him on the backseat beside Rowena, and Bela on the front seat; Sam tried to ignore how she smirked at Dean with self-satisfaction, making the hunter blush from anger. "Okay, let's go", Sam muttered.

* * *

The relatively short drive was still one of the longest in Rowena's life – not the trip itself, but the company and the fact that she was still almost completely unable to move – not even mentioning the collar! Lord, how she wanted to be freed from it already!

After few hours, in what time Rowena had completely lost her sense of direction (which was probably planned), the car was finally pulled on stop. "Wait here, Az", the youngest hunter said, "Bela and I will go check if we're far enough."

The was something suspicious in the way he said it. "So why can't you check it in here?" she demanded.

"Because the map is easier to open when you actually have some room to do so", said the demon-bitch in a voice that implied "are you stupid?"

So more waiting.  _Like there hasn't already been enough of that sort…_

Luckily the wait was short-lived, since it took tem minutes in maxim for the car door on Rowena's side to open and her to be pulled out unceremoniously so that she almost fell flat on the ground, managing just barely to hold her balance. As the sack was taken away, the witch glared the demon who just smiled devilishly at her. "What? I thought you were in hurry", she said as the hunter came over to unbound Rowena's arms.

"Take of the collar", she demanded.

Now the hunter glanced at her with a look of feigned innocence over his face. "The collar? Sorry, was that part of the deal?"

Heat rose to Rowena's cheeks. "You lousy maggot! You take this collar away right now, or I'll-!"

"You'll  _what_ , exactly? Scratch me?" the hunter asked sardonically. "Besides, if you want it to be taken of so desperately… why don't you ask your old pals to do that?"

She was starting to ask what he was talking about, when she sensed the shift in the atmosphere – nothing that normal human would have noticed, but those with certain sensitivity towards magic… "No."

"Rowena,  _darling_ ", said the sickly sweet voice from behind her, "how  _are_  you, dear?"

"We've been searching for you for a longest time…"

Feeling her stomach going into knots she turned around to see the leering faces of a witches she'd spent so much effort to avoid. "Olivette", she said weakly, "Nadia… Claudette…" Even Letitia, her previous tutor, was there, the only one who hadn't shunned her after it was revealed that she'd gave birth to a Nephilim; now she was looking at her with a disappointed frown.

"We kept our part of the deal; now's your turn", said the hunter and offered a grimoire towards Olivette.

The High Priestess looked at him coldly as she took the book. "I hope that you don't think that this would mean that we're now your beck and call; we're just aiding you this once because you returned the traitor to us… and because we want to stay in good mercies with one of the most promising raising power-structures of Hell", she added, and smiled at Bela little fawningly.

The demoness nodded back gracefully. "Your help is very much appreciated", she assured.

"You can't do this to me!" Rowena insisted, turning her terrified eyes towards Letitia. "Please, you cannot let them to do this!"

The Italian woman looked at her sadly before she shook her head and turned away. "I'm sorry, Rowena. I'd hoped that you'd learned your lesson, but… You're just not worth it."

"But-!" she insisted, before was swiftly silenced by the spell coming from Claudette.

"Oh, shut it! You and your games… "Mega-Coven", really? Walking around recruiting outsiders and teaching them magic, causing us all problems with demons… No more!"

Olivette sneered towards them. "Take her away; I'll finish our business there. Nadia, you stay beside me."

Rowena couldn't even scream as she was transported away. The last thought in her mind before the landscape slurred around them was,  _They cannot do this! Help me… Fergus!_

* * *

When other witches were gone, Olivette turned back towards them and smiled briskly, "Fine, the; let's start!"

Sam had bought the materials needed for the spell with them and now stood back and watched as the two remaining witches started to draw circles and mix ingredients, all the while mumbling incantations.  _So this really much be a strong spell, comparing to those we have tried before_ , the hunter thought.  _But why? Were there really any easier ways to do this?_

Circles in place and all put together, the witch named Olivetta sat down in the middle of them, her partner coming to stand behind her. "I suppose that you've at least read the spell, but just for clearance… this works in two particles. One will tell you the person's name who owns the item, another attaches the location spell into a chosen item, making it some sort of a divining rod, or radar, if that's easier to understand for you… So in this case, to a spoon", she summarized, with a small huff.

"They said its need to be silver, and that was only item big enough –"

"Whatever, whatever! Well, then… here we go."

The recitation really didn't take that long time; and then there were letters forming from the thin air, but they were blurry and unfocused, impossible to understand. The spoon, on the other hand, while still laying on the ground, had started to swing around completely disorderly. It was very clear that the witches were having some problems to hold the spell up.

"They're pushing us out… Harder, Nadia! We need to make it clearer!" Olivette shouted. "Concentrate!"

"The bastard has strong shields", Nadia hissed, droplets of sweat gleaming on her forehead. The letters grew more focused.

"Just a bit more!" Olivette urged. "I almost… got… through… There!"

There was a shift in the air, and the letters came clear to see; at the same time, the spoon stopped it's circling.

Both witches hissed when they saw the name and Nadia spitted on the ground to show her despise. "Should have guessed!"

"What?" Sam asked.

"Oh, my", said Aziraphale, looking totally thunderstruck. Beside him, Bela was just staring the letters, wide-eyed.

"What? Who is this guy?" Sam insisted, reading the name once again.

John Constantine.

"Oh, my", Az repeated, "I should have guessed…"

* * *

"So, what kind of person is this Constantine?" Sam asked when the rest of the Grand Coven had left (still looking more than little peeved) and they were in the car driving back to the bunker. He'd called for Dean to tell about their success and left the line open so they could converse during the travel.

"John Constantine is a magician and an occult detective, latest one in the long line of Constantine's", Anthony's voice told to him from the other side of the line. "They are also know as a Laughing Magicians, and known for their skill to outsmart gods, mostly pagans but I've heard that time or two some of them has even conned The Big Guy. If you check from that library of yours, I'm sure that you'll find many mentions of that bloodline; some of them might even have been members of the club."

"We've had encounters with them every now and then", Aziraphale added cheerfully. "I remember especially fondly one lady Johanna Constantine: she was a gem, really…"

"Cunning vixen, that's what she was", Anthony remarked, but he sounded more admiring than disapproving. "And John is even worse: Sold his soul so many times that none has idea to whom it no belongs, and no-one's bold enough to go and try to claim it in case that that meant stepping on someone bigger and badder's toes."

"Well, sound like an alright guy in my books", Dean said.

"He is; I mean, he always managed to make more enemies than friends, but he has a good heart", Aziraphale praised. "It's just such a shame that every time he find a group of people who are willing to overlook his snarky nature, they'll either perish or got seriously hurt during one of his cases…"

Sam hummed absentmindedly. "So you have met him personally, then?"

Aziraphale blushed a bit. "Not yet", he admitted.

"But I'm sure that he knows about us because I've few times saw him sniffling around near of my apartment", Anthony said. "Never came close enough for me to actually see his face, though."

Aziraphale frowned. "You never told that to me."

"Or to me, neither", Fergus seconded from backlines.

"It didn't seem as an important matter, you know?" Anthony said nervously. "I think that he just wanted to see where I lived, just in case. I'm sure he's done the same thing with your bookshop. Besides, if he'd read any notes that his ancestors had left, he already knew that we've been living in London for a longest time… Or you've, at least."

Bobby cleared his throat. "So now that we know  _who_ … what about  _where?_ "

Sam nodded, before remembering that there was no way for Bobby to see that. "Our divining spoon will do that; it already points to us in which direction he is, and if we lay it on the map, it'll move in the right spot and they there as long as he does and then follow his lead if he moves away."

"Well, aren't that handy…"

"So in other words, we could go right away to look him?" Anthony asked.

"Well, we already checked with a roadmap and it seems that currently he's somewhere in west coast, so…"

"So, what are we waiting for?" came Anthony's voice… except that instead of a phone, it came from the back seat.

"…! Can't you –  _beings_  – stop doing that?!" Sam yelped.

"Uh… yeah, sorry", the fallen said, smiling sheepishly. "I just thought that maybe Az and I should go and get this over with, since our means of travel are bit more, eh, advanced than yours – not that there's anything wrong with cars, either! I myself own a Bentley… But since we're in hurry, then maybe –"

"What an excellent idea!" Aziraphale said happily.

Sam looked at Bela. "Why didn't you think about doing that?"

She scoffed. "Demon, remember? I'm not going to mess with  _that_  guy."

"Fair", Sam admitted and turned back towards the angel and the fallen in the back seat. "Go on, then; but please, don't do anything risky…"

Aziraphale smiled soothingly at him. "Don't you worry, dear boy, it'll all go just fine", he promised, before the two disappeared in front of their eyes.

Sam shook his head. "It's still spooks me when people do that…"

Bela smirked at him and stretched her body. "Well, seems like we're all alone now… with a long drive ahead us…"

"Hey! Hands of off my brother, bitch!" came Dean's appalled shout from the phone.

Sam sighed and returned his gaze on the round, while his brother and the demoness started yet another pissing contest, via the phone this time.

_Maybe I should have asked them to take me along…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rowena's fate... let's just say that now on she's dead if not proved otherwise (meaning, if some odd reason I deside to used her later in the story, which is unlikely). Also, I originally wanted to put their meeting with Constantine in this chapter, too, but it was long enough and little late anyways, so I desided the leave it for the next one.


	14. City of Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John encounters an unlike pair in Los Angeles; also, a long-lost character returns to the story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in Constantine's POV.

It was raining. In Los Angeles. Well, how about that? Shows once again that I've got no luck with weather.

Angela had just showed me door. And here I'd came all this way just to check that she was alright after noticing the current rise in paranormal activity in USA. After all, she'd almost got possessed before, so I decided it was better be safe than sorry, but she was adamant to leave all that behind and pretend that it ever happened – like  _that_  would ever help!

Sometimes I don't really understand people. Take my sister, for example – I went down to Hell to rescue her, and what does she do? Decides to stay there so that the torment placed upon her husband – who, need I remind you,  _murdered_  her – could be divided equally between the two of them. Serious, Cheryl – what where you thinking? I know you gathered lost cases around you – God knows that that must be the reason you did stand me for so long – but this… this is way too much!

And worst of all, that left me to explain the situation to my niece – and what did I do again? Oh, right – ran right out of the door, leaving Angie to deal with crying Gemma… And that just  _might_  be the reason why that relationship was also long gone by now. Because, you know, luck in the game, unlucky with love… Even Zatanna gave me a cold shoulder, after all these years still blaming me for his father's death.

Shit, I could have sold my soul for a smoke…

That's when I met the unlikely pair.

Other man was short and bit chubby, with blond hair and horrible tartan vest that I was sure had never been stylish, while another one was rather tall and lanky and clothed all in black expect his socks which were bright red. And he wore shades.  _Shades!_  While it was raining like that? Well, it wasn't like that was the strangest thing about the pair, anyway…

Since while they certainly looked like two people with nothing common between them, that wasn't how I saw it; because these two had  _wings_.

Not the kind of wings that anyone could see and touch, mind; it was more like an aura, something for those to see who know how to look.

So, angels; and in the City of Angels, how fitting. And closer inspection proved that while the shorter one was practically oozing grace all over the place around him, the other had darker, smoky veil around himself, a hellish tint that colored his grace. So make that one angel and one demon, walking and talking together like some age-old pals. Huh. But it kind of make sense, considering that I already had a pretty clear idea of who these two were.

Since they hadn't yet noticed me – too busy to argue and check things from their map, apparently – I creeped closer to listen their conversation.

"…but it's called "city of angels", so clearly it belongs to our side", the angel had just said, with a little stubborn tone, if you ask me.

"Have you ever opened any magazine in your lifetime? I swear, Az, it belongs to our side."

"But the name-!"

"It's… maybe someone was just trying to be clever", the demon said, but there was heat creeping over his high cheekbones that indicated that that wasn't how it went.

The angel noticed that too. "What it is, my dear?"

"Nothing", the one with the shades said way too quickly.

"I can see that it's anything but "nothing", dear."

"Just… leave it, please."

"Tell me."

"Angel…"

"Anthony."

"Argh, I named it after you, okay?" the lanky demon finally exclaimed, and once the other just stared at him owlishly, he continued, "I mean, it was warm and sunny at that day and it made me thinking about… about paradise, and that made me think about you, and it had been some time since we last met and I thought that it would be nice to take you here someday – someday that shouldn't be this rainy! – and so I just –"

"You named it… After me?" the angel interrupted, his eyes shining.

"Well, I –"

Whatever the demon had meant to say was forgotten when the angel wrapped him into a tight, warm hug. "Thank you, dear. That was very sweet from you."

"Um, it's fine, erm… Just don't expect that would make a habit of doing things like that!"

"I wouldn't, my dear."

Okay. So not only were those two being a way friendlier that one would expect from an angel and a demon, they also seemed to be "friendly" to each other in a biblical sense. Huh. I certainly hadn't expected a day to come when I would see  _that_.

The demon had finally managed to gently unwrap himself from the angel's arms. "Okay, okay; let's focus, here." He put his hand into his pocket and picked out a.. spoon? "This should now point us to our next location…"

Immediately I felt the wards around me starting to tingle, as if something was trying to break through them.

"Well? Point us towards John Constantine's current location!"

I blinked my eyes. Me? Those two were looking for me? Now that was interesting.

I considered my opinions. I could walk away and let them wander around in the rain – maybe move the House elsewhere and fix any security breaches that might have caused me to be found – but truth to be told, I was rather curious to hear what those two wanted from me; and, if it was to believe what my predecessors had wrote about them, it wasn't even a that big risk.

So… Do I even need to say what I decided to do next?

"Hey. I couldn't help but hear a part of your conversation. I'm John Constantine; why are you looking for me?"

* * *

"I don't often bring visitors in here", I told them, while beckoning them inside of the House. Of course there was this tiny little thing considering that currently I actually  _did_  harbor a  _visitor_ , and how he might not be pleased with me bringing in any unexpected  _relatives_ … but it was my house and I could call in whoever I wanted, liked he about it or not!

"I can understand… Pardon me, but, isn't this the House of Mystery?" the angel asked with strained voice.

"Well, actually… yeah."

The demon looked around with suspicion. "I thought that it was left to Cain", he said.

"It was", I admitted. "I won it from him in a card game."

The angel looked abashed. "He lost the House of Mystery in a gamble?!"

I shrugged. "It happens. So, what it was that you wanted to find?"

"The flaming sword which was given to this scatterbrain when he was named the guardian of the eastern gate", the demon explained while gesturing towards his friend, "and which he then in turn gave to Adam and Eve."

"I see. Well, if it belonged to his parents, it wouldn't be too much of stretch to assume that it could be found from here…"

Meanwhile the angel had walked in front of one showcase. "Is that… the First Blade?!" he asked with a squeaky voice.

"Yeah; I wouldn't touch it if I were you. Mean stuff and all", I said absentmindedly while looking through the list I had made when I started the inventory right after moving into this house. It wasn't even near of being completed, but it would at least tell where to not look, even if the sword itself hadn't yet been located. "I think we should start from the armory; it seems the most obvious place to look."

"Then let's just hope that Cain decided to put it there and not in the most unlikely place", the demon said.

"Can't you simply do location spell or something?" the angel asked. "That's how we found you."

I shook my head. "That would succeed if we were looking something  _outside_  of the house, but magic doesn't work very well in anything inside of it. So, no shortcuts this time around."

* * *

The armory was a messy place and that's a one reason why I'd planned to left it for the last in my inventory; other reason was that many of those weapons looked like they'd been freshly used but not cleaned very well after, and while I'm not a stranger with blood and gore, I don't like to see reminds of it in the house I'm currently living in.

The angel and the demon look just as reluctant when they follow me into the room. "Oh, my…", the angel said with sorrowful voice while picking up a knife with rusty blood on it. "Anthony, do you think it is…?"

"Probably", the demon answered while shuddering. "Cain has had time to end him in numerous times during past thousands of years…"

Dropping the knife angel rubbed his hands against his vest as if to clean them. "Fine, then; the sooner we found the short the sooner we can leave this horrid place."

Each of us then took one corner of the room and started to look for swords; while the two of them were the only ones who knew what it actually looked like, the angel – Aziraphale, as he'd introduced himself – had assured me that I would recognize it just as well since I've adapted user of fire-element.  _"It'll feel familiar to you, dear boy!"_

Be as it might, for a while it was still too much like looking a needle from haystack. I lost count how many swords I first picked up and then put aside again, until…

It was nothing out of ordinary; rather long, yes, but so were many other swords as well. But this felt – how did Aziraphale put it again? – this felt  _familiar_ , in a very peculiar way.

"Hey; I think I found…  _something_ ", I croaked out, and the Angel hurried to my side, looking to sword with anxious eyes before letting out a sigh of pure relief.

"Indeed you did, dear boy; this is the sword Father gave to me."

Well, it isn't every day that one gets to hold things previously handled by the God, but I'd met the guy once and He hadn't smited me so I thought that that just might be okay… yet I still pushed the sword in the angel's hands as soon as possible. "There, it's yours!"

He held the sword with look of nostalgia in his eyes and then somehow made the flames appear; no words, no gestures, nothing.

"It's been so long", the angel muttered.

He's demon companion seemed anxious to leave. "Good, you got it; let's get going now, we've got no endlessly time to cut down Abaddon before she releases the whole Hell on us!"

"Coming, coming", the angel said with much calmer tone, and the flames diapered; he then put the sword on his belt, where it somehow sat so well that one hardly would even notice it if not looking very closely.

He then winked at me. "Just a little something to keep the bystanders from getting too intrigued", he offered.

I lead them back on the door, not so much out of being polite but more of preventing them to stumble somewhere (some room) where they weren't wanted right now.

"Is there any way we can repay you for your kind assistance?" Aziraphale asked.

I shrugged. "I'm sure that something'll come out some day."

"Then feel free to call us at any time", the angel said firmly. "And if everything goes as it should, I'll return the sword to you afterwards."

The demon stared at him. "What you mean, "return"? It's your sword!"

"But I'm certain that this is better place for its safekeeping than my shop in London", the angel pointed out, "which you are of course always welcome to visit, dear boy!" he added while turning to look back at me.

"Um, sure…"

He smiled at me blindingly. "How splendid! But now, I'm afraid that we much hurry." The angel offered his hand to the demon, who took it and then closed his eyes as if he was concentrating strongly, and just like that they were gone.

"That's so unfair", I whined while stepping back in to my house and closing the door.

"Are they gone?"

I didn't need to turn to look to know who it was, but I did so anyway. "Yes, they are; as I'm sure you can see by yourself."

The man looked at me with pursed lips. "That was risky, to bring them in."

"My house, my rules", I said mulishly, and he actually grinned at that.

"In a bad mood, eh? Does that mean that your date with that Angela-chick didn't go as well as planned?" he asked while following me to the living room, where I practically threw myself on the sofa.

"Not a date, pal", I reminded him, as I had done several times beforehand. "Just making sure she won't undo all my hard work…"

He paid no mind at my words as he crawled to sit half beside, half on the top of me. "Aww, come on… You can snuggle with me, Johnny! I promise, I won't bite…"

I shook my head for his flirting, but didn't push him away; I kind of wanted to see how far he would go to try and convince me. "…So why didn't you show yourself to them?" I asked instead. "I know your hiding from Heaven, but as far as I understand so are they."

He puffed his cheeks childishly. "Last time I got caught up in their mess it got me killed!"

I snorted. "For a dead, you're kind of lively…"

"Still! Besides, Dad asked you to keep me safe", he said poutingly. This time, I couldn't help but laugh at his expression, which made him smirk and press closer. "And content; those were His words: safe and content."

I lifted one of my eyebrows. "Oh? And are you, then… safe and content?"

It was a bad idea…

He looked at me gleaming eyes while purring, "Well, now that you were asking, there might be some…  _gaps to fill_."

So, so bad idea…

"Well, as a good host, I probably should check those gaps…"

"That would be very much appreciated, Johnny", he whispered right into my ear.

It was a horrible, terrible idea, but then again, when my ideas weren't?

"Lead the way… Gabriel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, most of the Constantine trivia I've put in there is a real deal – just not always in the same time and the same verse.
> 
> Angela Dodson is the female lead in the movie Constantine, and while it's no way canon in comic verse, I used her to explain why John's in Los Angeles, where the movie happened.
> 
> Cheryl Master's (John's sister) fate is canon at least in Hellblazer comics (see issue 212, or comic book The Gift); she had a daughter, Gemma, a mage herself, who isn't always in very good term with her uncle.
> 
> Angie Spatchcock (mentioned) is magician and John's former girlfriend.
> 
> I think that there may be multiple ways of how John caused Zatanna's (female magician from DC comics and at some point John's girlfriend) father's death; my version is the one from the Swamp Thing issue 50.
> 
> Cain, and his brother Abel, were originally "hosts" in the horror comic anthologies House of Mystery and House of Secrets. It's implied that instead of the actual literal beings Cain and Abel, the Dreaming's incarnation of them is closer to archetypal roles of first murderer and first victim, but in this crossover I decided made him the Cain because it would have been stupid to have two of them running around and in the Lucifer TV series he's revealed to be the original Cain anyways, so… mixed canons.
> 
> As mentioned, Cain is the host of the House of Mystery, but he then lost it for a while and later Constantine won its possession in a card game (in Justice League Dark series); he didn't won it directly from Cain, but let's make it little simpler here for story's sake. (After a while he lost its ownership for Zatanna, who became the leader of the JLD, but in my storyline that hasn't yet happened.)
> 
> John met the God on the campfire in Hellblazer's issue 128, whom he then cons to safe his soul from hands of the current boss of Hell, the demon simply known as The First.
> 
> And lastly, Gabriel… well, even I had no idea that it would end up like that! But what can I say, he's the trickster, so… In Constantine the movie Gabriel was an angel living in Los Angeles, and while he and John certainly weren't friends, they were acquaintances. In the movie Gabriel finally went rogue and ended up being killed by Lucifer (a common theme, it seems!), but it's not hard to imagine that SPN-Gabriel would probably know John (they're both tricksters, after all) and get on with him just splendidly.
> 
> And yeah, John has mentioned having both female and male lovers in canon, too.
> 
> Other note: It took me longer than usually to get this chapter done, somewhat because I've got caught with other fandoms, but foremost because "darkness my old friend" has came back to visit me - meaning, I'm depressed, and it's no fun and some days even getting out of the bed feels like too much to bear, so I can't make no promises when the next chapter will be out. Let's hope that the spring will come soon and woke me up from this!


	15. Where There is Talking, and More Talking, and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says.  
> SPOILER WARNING: This chapter contains spoilers for Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere (1996); so if you haven't read it yet but are planning to do so someday (which you totally should, it's amazing!) please be warned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late! But at least it's little longer than usually, so that helps a bit... No idea when the next chapter will be ready, though!   
> By the way, I really like the destiel part in the end of this chapter... Actually, this is one of my favourite chapters so far, so I hope you'll like it, too!

They were all sitting around television, watching the latest newscast when Aziraphale and Anthony returned with the sword.

The were showing video stream from the café captured on security tape. People sitting on the tables, normal, regular people, children and parents and lovers… and then came the light, and camera went off. Next video was of the aftermath, yellow tape and broken glass everywhere, and ashen prints left by the corpses already carried away. The reporter was describing this massacre as the newest crime committed by "unknown factor".

" _They're not unknown"_ , Castiel thought with tremors,  _"They're my people… Settling their score while paying no heed to the damage it causes to innocent bystanders… And I don't know if there's anything I can do to stop them…"_

As if reading his mind, Dean pulled him into an one-armed hug against his side without taking his eyes away from the screen. It didn't make Castiel feel any better with himself, but at least he knew he wasn't alone in this.

The hellhounds lifted their heads up and turned to look at the door just few moments before they heard the knocking, and then Juliet was on her feet, backing and wagging her tail and running towards the door.

"Seems like father and Az are back", Fergus said and stood up, stretching his back before following his hound on the door. "Yes, yes, dear girl; down no, let papa open the door…"

"I didn't remember her being that enthusiastic when someone's on the door", Sam said as he too followed them and managed somehow grab Juliet's collar and drag her a little bit backwards.

Fergus seemed little surprised by Sam's spontaneous aid and the smirk he then gave was almost shy, though it would be better that no one told him that. "She isn't, but Aziraphale gives her treats when he thinks I cannot see", he answered while unlocking the door.

As soon as the door opened Anthony stepped in, and without a word of greeting marched towards the nearest empty chair and collapsed on it. "Finally!" he said with exhausted voice, "I so hate moving place to place like that." The fallen did actually look little seasick.

"I thought that flying is more like regular thing to you guys", Dean said and passed a beer to Anthony, who accepted it with no comments and drank it very quickly.

"Thanks, I needed that… And it maybe normal to angels like Az here, but I'm still a snake. I kind of want to feel the ground under me." The fallen sighed. "I so miss the Bentley… You think she's missing me, too?" he asked from Aziraphale, who'd finally managed to tame enthusiastic Juliet enough to get inside.

"She's a car, dear."

Anthony sighed again. "Yes… she must miss me so much."

To that, Aziraphale rolled his eyes in a very not-angelic manner before sitting down beside of the fallen.

"Wait, you've a car?" Dean asked, and Sam let out a silent moan; his brother's smile was enough to tell that he was looking for an excuse to prove that his Impala of course was was the greatest thing ever created by car industry.

Anthony smirked, and the gleam in his eyes implied that he, too, was more than ready to spent next few hours by bragging to them about the wonder that was his beloved Bentley.

Luckily, Bobby intervened before they had change to get started. "You two can compare your vehicles later. Now, did you found the sword?" the old hunter asked.

"We actually did, indeed", Aziraphale answered with bright smile.

"Where is it, then?" Dean asked and looked around, as if waiting the sword materializing from the thin air with flames and all.

"Right here", Aziraphale said and tapped his side; only then did they notice the sword he was carrying. Seeing their surprised looks, the angel clarified, "I didn't want people to pay too much attention to it, you see. I've come to conclusion that swords aren't usual part of attire on nowadays."

"Can we take a look at it?" Sam asked eagerly.

"I can't see why not", Aziraphale answered as he pulled the sword out of its sheath and hold it up for them to see.

"I cannot but notice the missing of any flames in that so-called flaming sword", Dean said dubiously, and scowling Castiel nudged him between the ribs with his elbow.

Aziraphale smiled, and the flames came to alive. "Is this more like what you imagined, young Winchester?" he asked little cockily.

"Um… yeah, that will do."

"Splendid, dear boy."

Just then they all jumped a bit when a sudden beeping noise came from the television and they turned to look. On the screen a grim-faced news reporter proclaimed that broadcast would be delayed due an extra newscast.

"We have just got a information about a new attack on a church in Santa Fe, Oklahoma. The police hasn't yet confirmed of how many people there were in the building during the accident, or if there are any survivors. We have reasons to believe that the culprit behind this tragedy is the same group that has caused massacres all over USA duiring past few months, yet hasn't so far left any clue of who they might be and what are they aiming to…"

The hopeful spirit that had for a moment taken over Castiel left him as soon as it had arrived, leaving him empty and miserable. Dean took his had and squeezed it firmly, his mouth in a thin line and eyes blazing while he stared at the screen. The others had sobered, too, and for a moment there were only an oppressive silence in the room.

Aziraphale brushed away the tears that had gathered in the corners of eyes. "Oh dear", he said with wavering voice, "oh dear… Oh those poor people…! I had no idea that it had gone this bad…"

"I told you", Castiel said little sullenly. "That's why I asked you to take a lead."

"But I can't!" Aziraphale said with a desperate voice. "I'm not a leader, I… I'm just a bookworm, dam- uh, Heaven's sake!"

"So was Metatron", Anthony said suddenly.

"Um - What?"

"Metatron; he used to be just a bookworm, with no interest towards ruling anything or anyone. As long as he had his books, good wine and change to boast how close friend he and God were every now and then, he was quite content to let others do the ruling stuff. Even after the God left he made no moves to ascending the throne, but instead let the remaining Archangels to take the burden."

Aziraphale huffed. "I don't understand why you want to talk about that vile… person!"

Antony looked at him patiently. "But isn't this current attitude he's adapted a little bit out of character for him? Please, angel, let your bias down just for a second and think!"

"Bias?" Sam questioned.

Anthony hummed. "Oh, yes; I don't remember much of my life before my, er, trip on downwards, but I do remember how these two already had this still ongoing battle of which one of them is the most literate bookworm in all Heaven. It tuned down a bit after Az was positioned here and even more when Metatron decided to take his vacation, but I doubt that neither of them has forgotten it…"

"Really?" Fergus said, with a tone that implied that he wasn't at all impressed, but not really surprised, by this lack of maturity he'd just spotted in his kind-of stepfather.

"That does sound a little petty", Sam admitted.

Aziraphale decided to not pay no attention to them as he said to Anthony, "Well, I admit that his behaviour has been little odd, but I don't understand why you think it's so important…"

"Because I think that there's a third party involved in this who has been affecting in Metatron. Someone who holds a great grudge against Heaven and has made no attempts to hide his will to one day become the king of the hill…" As Aziraphale's eyes started to widen, Anthony gave the final blow, "Just think about it – why were you originally positioned in the place now called London, a long before even the Romans came there?"

Aziraphale looked very pale. "You don't mean…?"

Bobby coughed to catch the pairs attention. "Any plans of sharing that with the audience…?"

Anthony blinked his eyes and smiled sheepishly. "Em… Right. It's a bit a long story…"

"Then sum it up."

The fallen shrugged. "Fine. There was an angel named Islington, who went and drowned the Atlantis, and was then sealed under the ground in a place where London now is located." Anthony smirked little cockily while looking at their bemused faces. "Oh, and he hates the Heaven and want to became the God in God's place; now was  _that_  short enough for you?"

"Don't be mean, dear", Aziraphale said absentmindedly.

"Islington? What kind of stupid name is that?" Dean asked.

"Maybe God got bored with all the -el's and wanted some variety?" Fergus said with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

Castiel glared at them both before addressing his brother. "But how could he possible do that? I thought that he was unable to leave his prison."

Aziraphale nodded. "Yes, he is, but… Well, there was this struggle few years ago with Islington hiring some goons to catch this young woman who could open doors – not physical doors, per se, but doors between, let's say, dimensions", he explained. "I'm not even going to try and explain how it works with correct terms… Anyway, he tricked the girl and few friends of hers to find the key of Heaven's gate by means to return there and seize the power, but the girl was more clever than he thought and opened  _another_  door,

which took Both Islington and his goons to… somewhere else."

Castiel looked little appalled. "Then why you never informed Heaven about all of this?"

"Well, it happened couple of years after the whole mess with the apocalypse that Anthony and I helped to prevent, and… I just wanted to stay under Heaven's radar right then, as you surely understand."

"But if that girl send him into another dimension, why do you think that he would have returned?" Sam asked.

"Because doors open in both ways, and the girl had a younger sister with the same ability who was never found", Anthony said with dark frown.

"You should also remember, that Islington is very cunning and powerful angel", Aziraphale emphasized. "Actually, after Lucifer was banished from Heaven, there was plans to name Islington as his predecessor and make him the fourth Archangel, but then game this mess with Atlantis, and, well… he was ruled out."

Sam stared at them. "Wait… If he was defected, then… Did they pick another angel to fill the post? Is there a fourth Archangel we don't know about hiding somewhere?"

Castiel frowned. "I… I don't know, Sam. It happened before my time." He looked at Aziraphale. "What about you?"

The angel squirmed a bit. "Um… It's been a long time since then, and… I've been busy, so…", he mumbled, clearly feeling uncomfortable. But before anyone had time to question him about it, Aziraphale added briskly, "Well, maybe we then should go and see if Islington indeed has been meddling with us!"

Anthony moaned. "Angel! We just got here!"

"And that's exactly why we should go now before you grow to comfy", Aziraphale answered mercilessly.

"You're being so cruel, now…"

"With you, I sometimes need to be, dear. Besides, maybe we'll be able to go and check your car and houseplants while we are there."

"I'm not letting you anywhere near of my plants, angel! You just keep spoiling them, so that they no longer fear me like they used to!"

"Fear?" Bobby asked from Fergus with a low voice.

"Yes; father heard somewhere that plants grow faster if you talk to them, and, demon as he is, adapted the idea by starting to threaten his plants that he would exterminate every one of them who didn't meet the standards. And how you know, it actually works very well! Cruel but effective."

Bobby quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is that how you made me a garden practically overnight?"

"Partly, yes; but I added a hefty dose of witchcraft in the mix", the ex-demon admitted before interrupting his father's and Aziraphale's debate about fear versus tender loving care in plant pedagogy by asking, "How farfetched do you think this idea of Islington being behind Metatron's rampage is?"

The angel and the fallen looked at him, then at each other and shrugged.

"It's… certainly a one possibility", Aziraphale said.

"It wouldn't do any harm to check it out", Anthony seconded.

"But where would you even start looking? I mean, if he managed to return from that another  _dimension_ , why would he just come back to his prison? It makes no sense", Dean noted.

"Ah, but there lays the beauty of his prison; he  _cannot help but return in there_. It's, em… how should I explain that…"

"Its like in videogames", Anthony came to the angel's aid. "If your avatar dies in the game, you need to start the game – or a level – again from a certain point. In Islington's case, the earth is the level he's currently playing, and his prison is it's starting point. No matter who opens the door or from where, it'll always lead him there – if he doesn't manage to get to Heaven, which is his goal." After noticing the surprised look Aziraphale was giving to him, Anthony shrugged, "Hey, Fergus has been trying to teach me how to play those games for decades now; I cannot help but learn something, at least."

"Then how could he'd affect on Metatron from there?" Bobby asked.

"It was never meant to any doors be opened inside the prison", Aziraphale said. "It could have weakened the wards just enough for him to make contact to someone, and there wasn't very many angel for him to choose; me, Gabriel and Metatron, and I was his prison guard, and Gabriel – oh, Islington just  _loathed_  him! So that leaves us with Metatron."

"Who probably didn't even understand that he was been affected by the outsider", Anthony finished. "Islington was always almost as good as I in what comes tempting", he added sulkily.

"No-one's as good as you, dear", Aziraphale assured him and then promptly blushed a bit.

"Wait – just  _what_  have you two been  _up_  to?" Fergus asked with a leer.

"Certainly  _not_  what you're thinking about", the angel said little stiffly.

"Pity."

"Back to the point", Bobby said quickly.

Anthony shrugged. "I think that most of it has been said. We can't be sure about anything before Aziraphale and I go to check the prison."

"And the sooner we do that the better", Aziraphale said.

The fallen sighed. "Can't we really sleep over the night first? It's already evening, and we could leave early in tomorrow morning…"

"You don't  _need_  to sleep, dear."

" _Angel…!_ " Anthony begged.

Finally, Aziraphale gave up. "Fine… We can wait till the morning."

His partner's face brightened instantly.

Fergus looked at the clock and said, "I'm going to prepare something light for a late dinner", he said contently.

"Need any help?" Bobby asked.

"Hum… not likely. But I've got nothing against some company~"

"Not in the kitchen!" Dean cried out quickly.

"Pity."

* * *

The had a salad for a dinner – Dean had been bitching about it until Fergus had said, with a very patient tone, that absolutely no one was forcing him to eat, which surprisingly had made the hunter go quiet and start to eat – and afterwards Castiel followed Aziraphale and Anthony in their room.

"I know it's you", he hissed to his brother as soon as they went in.

Aziraphale blinked his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"The fourth archangel. I know it's you."

The other angel paled a bit and sat down. "Oh dear."

Anthony laughed mirthlessly as he laid down on the other side on the bed. "The pup isn't quite as clueless as before, huh? Must be Fergus' bad influence… Well, it's okay for me if you two want to have a conversation here, but please keep the tone down, okay? Okay. Good night, angel… little angel…" And then he started to snore.

Aziraphale looked at him enviously. "He always has talent to catch a sleep quite quickly whenever his aid would be wanted."

"Brother", Castiel demanded. "Explain."

Aziraphale sighed. "It's really nothing much, my position is on names only… They wanted fourth one, and Islington was out of question, so they… kind of made the decision between me and Metatron."

"Metatron-!"

"He didn't know", Aziraphale stressed, "neither did I before they just came to me and proclaimed it, like it was some huge honor – well, Michael and Rafael probably thought so; Gabriel kind of acted like the whole thing was a one big joke… Anyways, I then went to Father and told him that I wasn't qualified, and He just smiled ambiguously and asked why did I feel like that; and I honestly don't know what came to me, but I spent next few hours telling Him just that: that I had doubts about myself and what was right and what was wrong and how I just wanted my scrolls and a nice silent corner somewhere without angels just coming in at all the times of day just to ask my opinion of something almost insignificant that they could have just decided about by themselves but just wanted to bother some Archangel with…"

"And what did Father say?" Castiel asked, still little mad of being held in dark but always eager to hear anything about their Father.

"He said nothing."

"Nothing…?"

"Absolutely nothing; He just stood there and then He smiled and… and I realized that I was doing exactly the same thing to Him that I accused other angels doing to me: bothering him with something that I should have been able to solve by myself. Castiel, at that moment I didn't see Him only as God, the all-knowing, omnipotent being… But as someone who had feelings and problems like everyone else did, and who, too, could get tired and wish some peace and silence. And I admit that it scared me, because it almost felt like blasphemy, so I just excused myself and went to hiding."

"…And then?"

"Nothing much; next day it was proclaimed that Father wanted an Archangel to guard the Eastern Gate of the Paradise, just in case, and that I was chosen to the duty. And when the time flew, everyone just got so used with the title "Angel of the Eastern Gate", that no-one remembered that I was also an Archangel. It helped that I also changed my name a bit…"

Castiel blinked his eyes. "What?"

"It wasn't a big change, I just added some more alphabets in here and there… And Aziraphale sounds so much better than Azrael, don't you think?"

Castiel's eyes went wide. Aziraphale's name had always sounded little off to his ears, but Azrael… that name he did know. "The angel of Death."

Aziraphale snorted. "Please, that's just another useless title; all I did was to keep record of who had died and if we had required their souls or not. Later that responsible was given to Reapers, so my title became even more purposeless."

"But… but…"

"Castiel; I'm sorry I didn't tell you this earlier. It's just… My titles were all more or less in name only, with little to no point behind them, and I had long since stopped thinking about myself as anyone else than Aziraphale. Even Father called me that, when ever he visited me…"

"Did that happen often?" Castiel asked almost mournfully; he'd never even met their Father, and here his brother talked about His visits like they were nothing out of ordinary.

Apparently Aziraphale noticed the sift in the atmosphere because he hurried to downplay it; "Not so often, not at all! Mostly it was just when he wanted to see how Adam and Eve were faring; and then after their banishment, when I had just, em, misplaced my sword; and, of course, when he asked if I could start guarding Islington's prison, which is when I moved to place where my bookshop now lays – I think that He thought that being left all alone with no contact to his brethren would be punishment too severe even for  _him_ ; and", Aziraphale bite his lip, unsurely, before continuing, "one more time, after he'd already left Heaven."

"He came to see you?" Castiel pressed, and when his brother nodded, he went on, "When? What did he say? Did he tell you where he was going?"

Aziraphale raised his hands up in an assuring manner. "Slow down, Castiel! I promise, I'll tell you all I know: but he didn't really say much anything. It was, let's see… little bit after Romans started construct the Hadrian's Wall: that was AD 122, if my memory doesn't quite lost me… So couple of years after that, I suppose. I was sitting in my veranda, reading a scroll when I raised my head to think about something I'd just read and He suddenly just stood there. I didn't even recognize Him at first, since He was hiding His grace quite splendidly, so I asked if there was any way I could help Him… Maybe little curtly, I admit, but the scroll was very interesting. Then He smiled, and that was all I needed to see; I'd seen that smile before, kind yet ambiguous, and heartbreakingly lonely in some way I never quite comprehended at the time." Aziraphale's eyes were pensive. "I'm not sure if I still do, nowadays."

"What happened next?" Castiel asked with awe.

"I of course fell on my knees and cried, "Father! Please forgive me my disrespect!" But He took my hand and pulled me back to stand, and said – and I quote - , "Be at ease, Aziraphale; I was just crossing by and decided to see how you're faring." He then looked around and continued, "I see you're living quite comfy." I of course thought that He was displeased, and started to explain myself, but He just waved me of, saying, "I wasn't criticizing you, Aziraphale; I'm quite happy for you." "Happy?" I repeated. "Yes", He said, "I see that you've found the place to call home." Now I was ready to tell Him that Heaven was and would always be my home, but the words stuck into my throat; because I knew they weren't sincere, and I could never lie to my Father – em, lie to Him second time, I mean, I wasn't quite being as honest as I was supposed to be when he asked me where my sword was after I gave it to Adam, but He knew and I kind of knew that He knew and He knew that I knew that He knew and –"

"Angel", the gruff voice from the bed muttered, "you're babbling."

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I was. I was woken up by pure idiocy. Please refrain repeating that."

"I love you too, dear."

Grumbling Anthony buried himself under the sheets.

"Please continue", Castiel asked.

Aziraphale shrugged. "After that, it was almost over. He looked around second time and said, "I'm going to a little trip; not sure when I'll return. But I see that I'm leaving the earth in good hands." "Father", I objected, "I'm nothing of that sort. I'm just lazing around and observing and granting some miracles now and then…"  _And bickering with one demon_ , I wanted to add, but that sounded little wrong so I didn't. But He just laughed and said, "And you know what, Aziraphale? That's exactly what I'm planning to do!" And then He tipped his hat (He was wearing a hat, did you know?) and walked away; and just before I lost the sight of Him I saw Him walking past certain  _someone_  who was riding towards my house, and I saw then glancing at each other – Anthony curiously, Father with a gaze that was hard to read – and then He laughed. Castiel, here I stood, stiff with fear and just waiting the smiting to begin, and He just laughed, like it was the most refreshing, most hilarious thing that had ever happened to Him…"

"I'm just glad I had no idea who He was; I thought He was just some village idiot looking around for place to sleep or something to eat", Anthony said disgruntledly from under his covers. "I even gave Him a coin, for Someone's sake! I gave God a coin, like He was some regular beggar!"

"I think that He thought it was kind of endearing; and it was a good deed, after all."

"I'm not supposed to be endearing", came the sulky return.

"I'm sorry for you, dear, but we just can't help but find you as such." He looked at Castiel, "Or don't you say so?"

"Errr…"

"Don't you dare, chibi-angel!"

"So, you… never saw him after that?" Castiel verified.

Aziraphale shook his head. "I'm afraid I didn't, dear; not face-to-face, at least."

Castiel sighed. "I miss Him."

"Here I thought you never even met Him – Augh!"

"Anthony, really!" Aziraphale reproached. "Forgive him, Castiel; he's always grumpy after getting complimented. …And what comes to Father, I know that He loves you very, very much. Remember, He has already resurrected to twice so far."

"Yet He won't allow me to find Him."

Aziraphale bite his lip, worry in his eyes. "Maybe He has."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you, when He visited me the last time I didn't recognize Him; maybe He has come to see you, only remaining incognito."

Castiel frowned. "But why would He do that?"

It was Anthony who answered. "Because He's ashamed", the Fallen said and sat up, glaring at them both with weary eyes. "He messed up with Lucifer, royally, and didn't know how to fix it so He put him on time-out. He never meant it to be eternal solution, and that time He planned to reconcile with his son somehow but never found courage to do so; and time passed and Lucifer was still locked out and He was so afraid that He would repeat the same mistakes with His other children so that He almost did nothing anymore; He didn't spent time with angels like He used to nor talk to them anymore without someone – normally Metatron – acting like His mouthpiece. He secluded Himself so far that His youngest children never even met him, until finally He decided that the only way to protect everyone from His mistakes was leave everything and just run from His problems. Then things started to get worse and He just kind of kept hoping that everything would finally set down; but it just kept going worse and worse and He felt that He just couldn't simply come back anymore, walk through Heaven's Gates and be like, "Daddy's home! Were you good kids?" It was probably easier just think, "They're all adults now, let them fix their own problems", and get drunk."

Castiel stared at him. "You- you can't speak of God like that!" he resisted, but little weakly.

Anthony scratched his cheek. "Why not? I'm a Fallen, it's in my work description. Besides", he then added, "I do understand Him; after all, I'm a father, too. When I first met Fergus, all I wanted to do was to run, as fast and as far as possible. Of course I didn't but… the temptation was great; because I was afraid." He sighed somberly. "You see, he wasn't at all like the Fergus you know nowadays; he was a total wreck, and I know that if I helped him now, he would be my responsibility for the rest of his – or my – life. The part of me said, "walk away; it's not in your work description". But other part said, "if you leave him now, will you really be able to life with it?" Luckily, that latter part won, or I would have missed one of the best parts in my life… But, like I said, I can relate Him a bit." Then he yawned. "Go to bed now, kid; I want to catch some sleep, hopefully  _before_  its morning."

Castiel looked unsure. "But…"

Aziraphale hugged him encouragingly. "We can talk more about later, Castiel; but now, it's really late, and you really shouldn't keep Dean in waiting."

The younger angel blushed furiously. "How did you know that we…?"

"…That you spent most of nights together in Dean's room?" Aziraphale concluded. "Dear, I'm neither blind nor stupid." He opened the door and gave Castiel a gentle push on his back. "Go on now; I'm sure that Father approves it, too."

"How can you be sure of that?" the other questioned.

"Easily: after all, He approved me getting together with Anthony, too." For Castiel clueless look, he continued, "Love is a gift He gave to all His creations; and I've never felt as much love as I do when I'm with Anthony."

The Fallen groaned, looking both pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "Please, just… come to bed already, angel", he mumbled.

Aziraphale sent a smile towards him before leading Castiel gently but firmly out of the room. "Good night, dear", he said and without moment's hesitation gave his younger a light kiss on his forehead before returning his bedroom and pulling the door closed behind of him.

Castiel stared at the door on few seconds; then he turned and followed the familiar corridor to where Dean's room was. There was a ray of light seeping out under the door, which he gave a light knock before stepping in without even waiting an answer; he knew it wasn't required.

Dean was laying on his bed, arms behind his neck; his eyes had been closed but he opened them as soon as Castiel came in and gave him a smile. "Hey, Cas."

"Dean", Castiel said, and as always, that was all he needed to say; in that one, single word he had put all his love and adoration towards this man. To the angel, hunter's name wasn't only a name but an endearment, almost a prayer, if it wasn't too much a blasphemy to think so.

"You were up late."

"I'm sorry if I kept you up."

The hunter shook his head. "Don't be; I know there must be a lot going on in your mind right now… I just hope that I could help you with your burdens."

"You already do more than enough, Dean."

Dean smiled. "Shut the lights and climb in, then", he said simply.

With them, there was no reason for grand gestures or expressions of love; they'd walked through the Hell and high water, sometimes literally. One knew what another was planning to say without even waiting them to finish the sentence. So when Dean said, "shut the lights and climb in", Castiel knew what he really meant was, "I love you and don't really know what I should do to make it okay, but at least let me hold you so that you know you're not alone".

With a smile in his eyes Castiel shut the lights. "I'm coming, Dean."  _I know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Islington... was mostly explained in the chapter, so I'm not going more in to that.   
> As Aziraphale=Azrael... it just felt fitting! In SPN canon, Azrael was only mentioned once as one of the angels who dies when they all fell from the sky, so I didn't felt too bad for ignoring his existance. In Hebrew Bible Azrael is often identified as the angel of Death, and he's also one of the four Archangels in Islam tradition, though never referred by name in Qua'an. My greatest inspiration came from Craig Thompson's graphic novel Habibi, which referred many Islamic myths and legends; one of them being that Archangels were the ones guarding the paradise... I don't know how authentic it is, but I just decided to go with it.


	16. After Fluff Comes the Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the tittle says...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late, and I can't even promise you that the next chapter would be back in any earlier... Sorry!

After other occupants of the bunker had one by one said there goodnights and took a refuge in their rooms, there now were only Fergus and Bobby left in the kitchen, the former dishing tableware while the hunter used drying cloth. Sam, of course, had volunteered to help, as had Dean with little less enthusiasm, but the ex-demon had shooed them away, making clear that their aid wasn't needed. "We adults need some alone time", he stressed.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the current living situation – because, to be honest, he did enjoy it quite a lot. This was what he'd always missed as a kid in Scotland, a family; everybody else around him had siblings and cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents, if they still were around. Fergus instead had only Rowena, and she was never quite there for him, even before she then abandoned him altogether. Rowena herself had apparently had more siblings than their parents could afford to feed, but Fergus never meet even one of them; as far as Rowena was believed, she was cast out after her parents got a clue about her mingle with witchcraft as well as her… other… pastimes – though at this case, if not in anything else, Fergus was ready to give his mother a benefit of doubt; even while Rowena certainly didn't have high morals in what came to men, she had been very young woman at time and the men she'd laid with were at least as guilty as she was (if not more) to what happened then.

Without really wanting to think about it Fergus found his mind drifting to the fate of his mother; had the Coven killed her, and just how much did the make her suffer before it? He found himself hoping that Rowena's end had been quick and painless; his newfound human emotions weren't letting him to feel happy about his mother's demise.

"What are you thinking?" Bobby asked.

"Hm?"

"It looked like you were worrying over something."

"Ah… Just thinking about, you know, families and stuff", Fergus said little lamely and avoided Bobby's searching look.

"…I see."

The ex-demon laughed. "Well, we're all living together like a one big family here, aren't we? You and I, my parents and Castiel, the boys…"

Bobby snorted. "A true problem family, then."

Fergus nodded. "We would need a fortune to pay of all the therapy your sons will one day need."

"Why are they only  _my_  sons when we're talking about the costs they're causing for us?" Bobby joked fondly. "And isn't it a problem then that our older son is dating your brother?"

"Strange things can happen in a blended family like ours… Do not forget that Castiel is not only mine but also my  _step-father's_  brother."

Bobby shook his head. "I know we're only joking but this sounds too much like a plot for a soap opera."

"What a splendid idea! Maybe after Bela gets the grown I should put few demons to work on the script…"

"No." and, when the ex-demon took a playful pouty expression, the hunter smirked and plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Speaking of Bela…"

Fergus shook his head. "She didn't answer when I tried to call her earlier, and I didn't dare to leave the sound mail in case that someone else get hold of her phone. It's not a big deal, since we didn't promise to be in contact until tomorrow, but… I'd just hoped that she could have stayed here after she and Sam came back from – from the meeting with the Coven."

"Spending too much time in here would still increase her risk to blow the cover", Bobby reminded hi.

"I know." It didn't make it easier, though. Now that all the pieces started to get together and their plan to dethrone Abaddon was moving forward, he couldn't help but get anxious; the plan was risky… and, right now, Bela was the one who would carry the biggest burn if they were found out.

Fergus hadn't meant to get emotionally attached to the young woman when he offered aid her after her failed try to steal the Colt from the Winchesters; he'd seen her useful, nothing else. But much as had happened with the others, Bela had formed her way into his wrecked little heart far longer he realized that it still existed. After all, there were enough similarities in their backgrounds to make him relate with her, and the unorthodox way she became a demon allowed her to retain enough of her humanity to keep her interesting – not even mentioning her delightfully cunning nature, intelligence and keen sense of style. No, Fergus hadn't meant to get attached, but he had, and now he hoped from the bottom of his heart that his "daughter" was safe and sound.

"Now you're worrying again", Bobby said.

Fergus startled. "What?"

"You got that annoyed frown on your face; you always get that expression when you're worried about something."

Resisting to show his surprise Fergus smirked. "Oh, you've got to been watching me pretty closely to take a notice of something like that", he said with a leer.

He expected Bobby to either blush or start to deny him (or both, most likely); instead, the hunter just looked at him straight in the eyes. "Yes, I have. Does it bother you?"

Fergus giggled nervously. "No fair! It's not fun to tease you when you refuse to take the bait…"

Smiling, Bobby put the drying cloth away and let the water run off from the now empty sink. "We should probably heed the bed too", he said while offering a hand for Fergus, who took it, and the squawked happily when Bobby pulled him into a kiss.

"Where did that came from?" Fergus asked when they break out to catch breath.

The hunter didn't answer that first, only holding the ex-demon close to him; then he started, with little awkward voice, "You remember - that thing, earlier at the evening – when Dean implied that we would try do something in the kitchen that we shouldn't?"

It took Fergus a moment to catch on. "Yes… What about it?"

"We hadn't. Done it, I mean. At all."

"You made it pretty clear that you weren't ready", Fergus said with neutral voice. "Something about, "taking it slowly", if I'm remembering it right." Oh, and didn't that still burn, even while he could well understand and even somewhat relate, but… It was still something that, by now, didn't belong to him but to Bobby's late wife, without even counting all the flares the hunter probably had in between, and of course he was jealous, dammit!

Bobby coughed a bit. "Well, I - I think we're done with being slow. If, if that's okay with you."

Fergus stared at him. " _If?_   _If_  it's okay with me?" he repeated and them started to laugh. "Oh, you silly old man; I've been waiting that since our very first kiss."

Bobby frowned. "That long?"

"Well, of course, back then I only thought that you could be good at sack, no strings attached", the ex-demon admitted, leaning closer and pressing his face against hunter's neck. "Now… Now it's whole different deal."

Bobby chuckled. "I certainly hope so."

"Hey… Say it to me."

"Say what now?"

" _You know._ "

Putting his hands on Fergus' shoulders, Bobby pushed them apart enough so that their eyes could meet. "I love you", he said, with a blush that Fergus' mind dubbed as 'adorable'.

Fergus smirked impishly. "I know", he said smugly, and when Bobby then scowled at him, he laughed and continued, "and I love you too."

Shaking his head both of amusement and exasperation Bobby again offered his hand for Fergus to take. "Well… shall we, then?" he said, his voice going husky.

Fergus took his hand eagerly. "Lead the way, darling."

* * *

Anthony and Aziraphale started to make their leave early at the next morning.

"How long do you think this will take?" Sam asked.

Aziraphale gave it some thought before answering, "We should be back tomorrow evening or day after tomorrow."

"How come it takes so long?" Dean wanted to know. "I thought you only go there to check!"

"Indeed, but one doesn't simply just walk in a prison like that", Aziraphale said. "There are some measures we needs to take beforehand – timing, for one, is important…"

"Remember, what we're talking about here is a prison that was made to hold a being that could very well be able to hold against Lucifer himself – not beat him, maybe, but at least coming closer to that than any other angel currently alive", Anthony pointed out. " _And_  he's insane, let's not forget that…"

"There used to be short circuit, mind you, called  _Angelus_ , but it… went little haywire after that Door-girl I mentioned earlier used it to contact Islington", Aziraphale clarified, sounding little embarrassed. "Actually, it wasn't meant to be used by, well, anyone but me, really. But, as it happens, I, um… had got it little misplaced…"

"The question should be, how can one misplace something of a size of cathedral door", Anthony mumbled. As offended-looking Aziraphale then glared at him, the fallen quickly babbled, "Not that I find it odd, not at all! Actually, it is rather endearing…"

"Shut up, dear."

"Yes, angel."

Fergus rolled his eyes to their antics. "Are you two actually planning to leave sometime today?" he asked impertinently. "Because the sooner you get this done, the sooner we can concentrate to taking down Abaddon."

Bobby smacked him gently on the backside of his head. "Behave", he said. "He's worried since Bela hasn't called him back yet", he then explained to the others.

"I see." Antony looked at his son and said, with rather strict voice, "Just make sure then to not do anything reckless while we're gone."

Fergus snorted. "When have I ever been reckless?"

"If memory serves, at least as often as young Winchesters…"

"Why, that sounds like a slander!"

"Oi! What do you mean by that?" Dean demanded.

"Clearly I've got far too much style and intelligence to be compared to you two ruffians", Fergus sniped him.

"Why, you –"

With tired sigh, Sam stepped to stand between his brother and Fergus. "Just calm down, you two."

Fergus shrugged and smiled indifferently, while Dean crossed his arms and kept giving him scorching looks.

"Are you sure we should leave them right now?" Anthony asked from his companion, who too looked little unsure. "We could still wait till Bela has called, and maybe then –"

"No, no, you two should get going, now", Sam reassured. "Don't worry, if Bela calls we will follow the plan, and Bobby and I will make sure that no-one crosses any lines. And if anything totally unexpected happens, we still have Castiel in our corner."

The said angel nodded. "It might be dangerous to divide our forces like this, but our time is running short in both cases. I can use your sword as well as you do brother."

Aziraphale smiled fondly at him. "Even better, dear; I'm afraid that I haven't have a lot exercise in sword-waving in who know how many centuries."

"I think the last time we putted our heads together properly was during the reign of Alexander the Great", Anthony piped out. "And of course you picked up that one sword and planned to attack on Lucifer during Apocalypse-that-didn't-quite-happen, but you didn't really had change to swing it at anything… Luckily, since he would had totally destroyed you –"

"At least I still had a sword, you were holding a tire-wire!"

Fergus sighed. "Why does it feel like I've heard this same quarrel millions of times before – oh, wait, maybe because I  _have_ …"

After that conclusion, it took still a bit coaxing to get Anthony and Aziraphale to step out of the door, but finally they were gone, and the rest of the group looked at each other's like asking, ' _what next_ '?

Dean coughed a bit and once they turned to look at him, he said, only tiniest bit embarrassedly, "Breakfast?" and looked hopefully at Fergus.

The ex-demon sighed. "Sure, why not – now, does anyone know if you have a waffle iron in your kitchen?"

* * *

Sometime later, they were all once again sitting in the kitchen – they did indeed found a waffle iron, and Fergus served waffles with maple syrup and whipped cream – when his phone suddenly started to ring. He took it quickly in his hand and almost sighed out of relief after seeing callers name on the screen. "It's Bela", he told to others.

"Put it on speaker", Sam said quickly.

Seeing that it was easier than explain everything that was said later, Fergus nodded before answering the phone, "Hey, kitten. What's up?"

Bela didn't waste time to pleasantries. "Do you have it?" she asked, her voice echoing a bit in the suddenly quiet room.

"You mean the sword? Because if that's what you mean, then yup, I do."

"Ha ha ha. You're hilarious."

"Trying my best, dear."

"Okay, that's enough dillydallying. Abaddon is getting impatient; if we're planning to do this, we need to act  _now_."

Fergus frowned. "Impatient like how?"

"Impatient like no longer going to wait till she has the whole Hell in her side before making her next move, AKA releasing the lords of Hell."

"Where is she now?"

"She has a room in Humboldt Hotel in Cleveland, Ohio." Fergus could almost see Bela's sneer as she said it. "Can you imagine? Monarch of Hell, living in a regular hotel… You had a lot more style, I give you that…"

"Your opinion means much to me, kitten." It did, even while he said it with sarcastic voice. "And what about you? Still above all suspicion?"

Bela huffed. "I'm one of the few demons she keeps close. She knows I used to work close to you, but I managed to totally sell her my sob-story of how I despise you. Sadly I had to sacrifice few of your loyalists to make my point, but –"

"They gave their lives to the cause. Was there anyone we could still have had use for?"

"Let's see… there was Gerald – you remember him -?"

"Ah, the one who always complained about how ma used to burn him with cigarettes? Pity." Gerald had always been trustful, even while not too bright (or maybe exactly for that reason; he wasn't clever enough to be deceitful), and he could have been able to somewhat relate with his past. But, no game, no gain.

"- and Guthrie."

Fergus startled a bit. "Ah. I see." He had know Guthrie a long time, they had worked side by side under Lilith's rule, and later, when he had betrayed Lucifer, it had been Guthrie who had warned him about the incoming attack so that he could escape. He had paid back later by making the older demon his butler, of sorts. Guthrie had been loyal, more interested to maintain status quo than gain power to himself, and as close to be a good friend as any demon could possible ever be. "That was… most unfortunate."

"Did I overstep my authority?" Bela asked, not sounding awfully bothered but maybe just a little pitying. Fergus didn't much care about that tone.

"I'm sure you only did what you must", he said, trying to sound briskly.

"Indeed. If I hadn't rattled him out, someone else would had, and sacrificing him was the most important part of proving Abaddon where my true loyalties lay."

"I understand", Fergus assured. He would probably had done the same, back when he was still fully demon; as for nowadays, all his human feelings and stuff kept coming in the way. "How soon we should we act, then?"

"How about right now?" Bela asked back. "I know that one of the angels you've became cozy with should be able to drop up out here."

Fergus frowned a bit. "That sounds hasty."

"You want this to be done or not? Because, and you need to  _trust me_  in this, we aren't getting any better chances than this."

"Hum, I see… Where and when?"

Bela told them to meet her in a bar next to the hotel precisely after one and half hour. "I'll only wait three minutes, so you better be punctual", she emphasized before ending the call.

Dean rubbed his hands together. "It's show time, then!" he said.

"Wait, Dean", Bobby said suddenly, he was looking sternly at Fergus. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You look worried."

The ex-demon looked at them, bit his lip, sighed and finally said, "It's a trap."

"What?" all the three hunters exclaimed at the same time.

"It's a trap", Fergus repeated. "Bela used our ' _safeword'_." As the others still looked bemused, he continued, "The first thing I taught her after bringing her to Hell was that  _you never trust another demon_. Ever. No matter how close you get, you should never trust them. It became even common joke between us: that if ever one of us asked the other to "trust me", that should be a clear sign that something fishy was going on. And right now, she asked me to  _trust her_."

Sam frowned. "Are you sure? I mean, it wasn't just a slip of a tongue or anything?"

"Bela doesn't make  _slips_ , that's why she's my favorite", Fergus said.

"So we're back in the starting point", Dean said, sounding both defeated and angry.

Fergus shook his head. "No, we aren't. We're going, anyway."

"What? No, you aren't!" Bobby yelled and jumped on to his feet.

"Why would you go if you already said that it's a trap?" Castiel asked.

"Exactly for that reason, Feathers; trap that you know about isn't really a trap anymore."

" _The plan_ , if you can call it one, was to let Bela possess you, and while that would distract Abaddon, you would shot her with Devil's trap bullet which then would give Castiel a change to behead her with Aziraphale's sword", Bobby growled, while walking to stand in front of Fergus and grabbing his on the shoulders, shaking him a bit. "But if Bela has been caught, as you think she has, Abaddon already knows all that, even the fact that you aren't demon any longer!"

"Are you telling me to abandon Bela to Abaddon's hands?" Fergus growled back. "She got in to this mess because of me; who knows what that bitch has already done to her!"

Bobby glared fiercely. "It's not worth of risking your life!" he argued.

"Well, I think that's mine to decide!"

"I think we should all calm down, now", Sam tried desperately to placate them. "First of all, we should contact your father; maybe he or Aziraphale know something that could help."

Fergus didn't seem calm at all, but grudgingly dialed to his father.

It went to the answering machine.

"Well, aren't this just great?" Fergus growled.

"Let's try again later", Sam proposed.

"We don't have time for that!" Fergus said back. "It's little less one and half hour to come up with new plan and get to the meeting spot!"

"We aren't going there!" Bobby rumbled.

"Yes,  _you_  aren't love, but I certainly am!"

"What do you mean by that?"

Fergus smiled at him sadly. "I mean this", he said, and then muttered one word.

With surprised yell, Bobby fell on the floor. He tried to stand up, but found it impossible to use his limb. "What the-?"

Fergus looked at the hunter who stared back with bewildered eyes. "I'm sorry, love, but I know you aren't going to give up on this and I have no time to waste." He turned to look the Winchesters, who stared them in stupor. "Aren't you two going to help him out of the floor and on the sofa?" he asked.

"Wh-what did you do to him?!" Dean demanded.

"It's a spell", Fergus said. "It took of his ability to move his limbs for a couple of hours." He looked back at Bobby with eyes full of pain. "I'm so sorry, darling, but I didn't know what else to do."

"How could you?" Bobby said, his voice no louder than a whisper. "You know – you remember that I already lost my legs once, and now you…"

"I really didn't know what else to do", Fergus repeated with defeated tone while Dean and Sam picked the old hunter up and carried him on the room they'd dubbed as living room. His eyes met Castiel's; the angel looked at him with eyes full of sympathy.

"I'm going", Fergus said stubbornly, "with or without your aid."

"I know", Castiel answered. "And I'm coming with you, with or without Dean's blessing." They watched as boys helped Bobby to lay down on the sofa. "Still, I hope you could have found another solution."

"So do I", Fergus admitted, "but right now, I cannot allow myself to think about anything but Bela." He sighed. "Castiel, she's like my own daughter to me."

Dean, after making sure that Bobby was feeling as comfortable as possible, considering the situation, stepped forward and socked Fergus right on the face, making him stumble backwards and fell on the floor.

"Dean", Castiel said, trying to step between them, but Dean pushed him gently but firmly aside.

"You", Dean said, his voice trembling with anger, "are an idiot."

"I know", Fergus said while holding his bloodied nose.

Dean glared at him, puffing like a locomotive, before reaching down to grip the ex-demon's arm and pulling him back to his feet. "Of all your stupid tricks – never try this again, understand? Ever!"

"It's not like I wanted –"

"SAY IT!"

"I'm never doing this again", Fergus parroted.

Still looking angry, Dean glared at him before turning to look at Castiel. "Heal his nose, Cass – Abaddon certainly will start to think that something is amiss if he appears in the meeting place looking like that!"

Fergus blinked his eyes. "Huh?"

"What you mean, huh?" Dean raged again at him. "Did you really think that I would let you go alone or, what's worse, drag Castiel with you? I'm coming with you, and that's the final! It's not like I was planning to leave that bitch Bela in Abaddon's hands, anyway…"

"Doesn't mean that we accept what you did to Bobby, mind you", Sam said with straight face, "but we understand why you thought it would be necessary; our old man here is as stubborn as we are."

"Boys, don't you dare-!" Bobby growled from the sofa.

"We've done crazy things before and succeed, Bobby; we can handle Abaddon, too", Dean promised.

"And afterwards we'll bring Fergus back to you so that you two can settle the score", Sam added.

_If it can be settled_ , Fergus thought with a dread…


	17. Hail to the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final show-down with Abaddon.

They were keeping eye on the bar where Fergus would soon meet Bela, keeping their distance far enough for not to be spotted too early.

Sam was worried, for various reasons. Reason one: the new plan Fergus had cooked up in mere minutes was even more risqué than the original one, and would with no doubt end up into a catastrophe that would possible get them all killed; reason two: Bobby's mental anguish and how it would affect to his relationship with Fergus (since, even while Sam had have his doubts, the ex-demon did indeed have positive effect on the old hunter, and visa versa); and three: Bela, and he wasn't ready to even start thinking what that was all about. He would admit (if forced to), that he'd had somewhat crush on her while Bela was still a human, and that even now she was still very… enchanting, no matter what type of body she was wearing – but after Ruby, he wasn't planning to start dating any other demon, no matter how well Bobby had managed to make it work out for him… So far, at least.

Sam peeked a look at Fergus. The ex-demon was quiet, which was unusual, and answered snappishly if anyone was brave (or stupid) enough to ask something from him, which really drove home the fact just how worried he was.

Sam wanted to be angry at him because of what he'd done to Bobby, but it felt hypocritical; since hadn't they all done some very shitty things that could only be justified by the fact that they were made to safe someone else? Sam knew very well that he wasn't a saint, nor was his brother; they were far from it, actually. Besides, he knew – and was sure that Dean and Bobby were aware, too – that while Fergus had said that he only paralyzed Bobby to prevent spending too much time in pointless arguing, that was only half of the reason; in truth, Fergus must realize that Bobby would eventually give up but demand to join them, which would then expose him to the danger… and the ex-demon wasn't ready to be put in the situation where he would possibly to be forced to choose to safe either his lover or… well, Sam wasn't quite sure what Fergus honestly thought of Bela. He had seen that there was some deep affection here, considering all playful banter and clear understanding between the two of them – and the fact of how determined Fergus was to rush her aid in the first place spoke volumes – but he didn't dare to even start to guess just  _how_  deep this could-be-friendship really ran.

"It soon the time", Dean said with grave voice.

Fergus scratched his arm; before they left the bunker he'd rubbed some dark, oily stuff all over his skin, saying that it would give him enough demonic aura to bluff lesser demons into thinking that he was still the demon he once was. Of course it was very possible that Abaddon had already forced the truth out of Bela, but even then it would be suspicious if he arrived into the enemy's area with no tricks in his sleeve. Sam wasn't sure what was in that… lotion(?), and he was sure that he wouldn't even want to know, but considering how Fergus had grumbled how his suit would be useless after this, it must had been some very mean stuff.  _And_  it seemed to itch, a lot, which was probably rightful punishment of the shitty thing Fergus had made earlier.

"You all know the plan", Fergus said, without his usual playfulness. This meant business.

"We do", Castiel assured.

"Yeah, and it's a very, very stupid plan", Dean muttered.

"Just follow the script", Fergus snapped. "And I don't need any side comments from a king of stupid plans!"

"Take it easy", Sam said. "Let's not lose our temper." Fergus growled at him, which made Sam roll his eyes. The ex-demon really got irritated when he was nervous, which in turn irritated the others – well, except Castiel, who looked just as calm as he was most of the time. "Fine, fine, you're not losing your temper… Could you still at least try to call your father one more time?"

Glaring at him, Fergus took his phone out of his pocket and tossed it to him. "Why don't you try it yourself?" he hissed.

Dutifully Sam scrolled the right number on the screen and pressed "call". He waited until the answering machine went on before ending the call. "Nothing."

"I could have told you so", Fergus muttered.

Castiel frowned. "It's not usual for them to not answer –" he started, before Dean caught his attention by putting his hand on the angel's shoulder and shook his head;  _no reason to cause more stress_.

Fergus kicked dust with his expensive-looking shoe and said, "Have you complained enough, now? Because it's the time."

Sam sighed and looked at his brother, who just shrugged;  _'what else we can?'_

* * *

The body Bela was wearing belonged to a woman with platinum blond hair; she actually looked queerly similar as she used to while still living. She also seemed completely relaxed, like she had no worries in the world, and that confirmed to Fergus that they were in a big trouble; Bela was never truly relaxed like this. She usually had this feline-like quantity, that even in her most relaxed state you could see how she took in everything happening around her, always ready to jump on her feet to either ran or fight. Now… now she looked like she'd just given up.

No-one else would have noticed the slight widening of her eyes when she noticed them. Fergus nodded grimly at her.

"Hey, kitten."

"Fergus", Bela greeted him with bored tone.

"Where is she?" the ex-demon hissed back.

"You got the sword?" Bela insisted.

Castiel took a step forward and released the sword from it's holder, letting her look at it; the demoness nodded. "Fine; follow me, then." She stood up, but then Fergus hold out his hand.

"Just a moment, dear." He turned to look around the bar and said with a loud voice, "So, here I am. What about we just cut the chase and go down to the business?"

Silence. All the eyes in the bar were on him. Ten or so customers, plus bartender and two waiters; all demons. Fergus smirked, making himself look imperious, like he was absolutely in control of the situation. "Hello? I came. Now take me to Abaddon. If I'm not mistaken, we two have a score to settle." Behind his back, he could hear Bela hissing lowly, and Fergus hoped that he could somehow reach for her to offer some support – to tell that all was going according the plan – but right now the all he could was just keep smiling pompously.

" _Let me get this straight; you want that just we walk in and, what – tell them to take us to their leader?" Dean had shouted as Fergus had first explained the plan to them._

" _In the nutshell, yes."_

" _Dude, you do realize that that's a suicide mission?"_

_Fergus had shrugged. "Maybe – or maybe not. It depends."_

" _On what?" Sam had asked, and Fergus had smirked little nastily._

" _On how many demons out there still fear me."_

That was the gist of it. Bela had said that Abaddon hadn't managed to get the whole Hell behind her rule; which meant that there was still those who expected Fergus' return. Some of them were loyalist, those who had flourished under his rule, while fast majority of them were just scary-cats who feared too much both him and Abaddon to chose one in fear that they would put their bet on wrong horse.

Of course, the bluff would only succeed if Bela had managed to hide the news of Fergus' new-found humanity from Abaddon. It was a certain risk, but not too big, since he was sure that even in Abaddon's not-so-gentle hands the demoness would be able to play her words so that nothing she said would be a lie yet it wouldn't be the whole truth, either.

Fergus had tried to observe Bela to see if she'd gained any lasting damage due the torture she had with no doubt gone thru, but couldn't see anything too oblivious, thanks to demons fast healing ability. He didn't even start to guess the state of her current host, though.

Fergus looked again at the other demons and noticed that they weren't looking very sure about the situation right now. When he had first calmly walked in to the bar, announced both his presence and the fact that he knew he was stepping right on the trap, and then ordered to be lead to Abaddon, Fergus had broken their expectations, and he could see how that was affecting to the demons; they were looking nervously at each others, unwilling to be the first ones to make a move.

Fergus sighed. "I see that Abaddon has let you slip far from the line; seriously, do I need to order Winchesters to put some movement in you?"

He noticed that Dean looked like he was about to snort at the mere idea of Fergus being able to command them to do anything at all, but thankfully he restrained himself and instead adapted a grim look as he glared at the demons, resting his hand on the hilt of his demon blade. Beside him, Sam did the same.

That made one of the demons to gather his courage, as he shouted, "Traitor! Are you really mocking us while it's you who is fraternizing with the Winchesters and their pet-angel!?"

Fergus smirked. "I see that one of you at least have a spine", he said. "Too bad though that the brains are still missing… Fraternizing? Really? Because I didn't see any of you fools objecting when I used these two fools to peck down Lucifer." The demons flinched collectively, and Fergus smirk grew nastier. "I see that you all still fear him… wise. But have you never thought what happens when Abaddon, which you all so readily follow, releases him to the world, hmm?"

No-one answered to him; the demon that had called him a traitor was once again merged back into the silent mass.

Fergus felt a great temptation to start tapping his feet.  _What a brainless bunch! Why again did I ever what to became their king in the first place?_  He opened his mouth to shout at them, but was interrupted by another voice coming from behind.

"Crowley… I see that it's true what they say about the vermin like you… You just  _refuse_  to die."

Restraining his shudder Fergus turned to meet Abaddon. "Bitch", he greeted. There was a little group of demons that had followed her inside standing near the doorway, all stiff and stone-faced. Silently Fergus cursed his current handicap for not being able to identify one demon from the other, but from their severe demeanor he guessed that these demons were precisely called here to witness Abaddon's victory.  _Which means they're high-ranking independents, who Abaddon wants to persuade on her side_ , Fergus thought with satisfaction.  _Good. So far its all going according the plan…_

Abaddon smiled, showing almost all her teeth. "I see you brought some…  _friends_  with you.  _How cute_."

Fergus shrugged. "So did you, I noticed."

Abaddon brushed his comment off. "So, finally got tired of our game of cat and the mouse? How…  _tiresome_  it must have been… hiding in some grubby shack" – this got Dean to grit his teeth – "like a coward you are…"

"Did you scheme to get me all this way to here just so you could bore me death with your blathering?" Fergus asked with bored tone. He was aware that the other demons were watching then keenly, waiting for the first strike.

I came from Abaddon.

Swiftly she gestured with her hand, sending the Winchesters and Castiel flying against the wall; at the same time, the bartender took out the gun and shoot Fergus' on the back… only for the bullet just being ricochet back and into shooter's temple. The demon fell on the floor, squirming; and while the wound was soon closed, the demon stayed down, clearly unable to move from his spot.

Fergus napped his chest. "Bullet-proof."

"Clever", Abaddon said sullenly.

Fergus shrugged. "I knew you would try and take a page from Winchesters' book", he said with nonchalant voice. Frankly, he hoped that Abaddon wouldn't next try to shoot him on the head.

Thankfully, Abaddon seemed to be tired on plays, because with an angry hiss she threw Fergus on the wall, too.

"Where's the sword!" she roared.

"The angel has it", Bela said quickly.

Fergus looked sourly at her. "Traitor."

The demoness shrugged. "Some of us want to survive."

Abaddon didn't care about them. "You", she said, pointing at some random demon, "fetch it!"

The demon – who looked like he'd rather blended on the background – walked towards Castiel and took the sword from his belt. He hissed from pain – holding a holy weapon didn't come without consequences.

"Bring it here", Abaddon ordered, clearly uncaring towards his servant's agony. She looked at the sword and then kicked the other demon on his ankle, almost sending on the floor. "Unsheathe it, you fool!"

The demon did as was told. Abaddon stared at the blade, and her face grow cross. She jerked it from the demons' burned hands and, with no sign of pain crossing over her face, plunged it to his chest. The demon screeched and fell on the ground, while Abaddon stared her own, unharmed hand.

"It was a fake!" she shouted, took out a gun and shot Fergus on the arm, making him yelp from the pain. The power field holding him up against the wall gave up, and he fell sprawling on the floor. Then Abaddon was on him, lifting him up from his collar and hissing on his face, "Where's the real one?"

"Why do you want it so badly?" Fergus countered, gritting his teeth against the pain. Over Abaddon's shoulder he could see Castiel staring at him with alarmed expression.  _Not yet_ , he tried to inform the angel with his gaze; this wasn't  _their_  show, after all.

Abaddon's eyes were blazing. "Before it was given to that weakling for guarding the paradise, it belonged to Lucifer himself! And when I release him from his prison, not only do I offer him a world in a palm of my hand, I'll also return to him his wrongfully usurped sword!"

From peek of his eyes Fergus saw that Bela was edging closer the Winchesters.  _Clever girl_ , he thought proudly. The demoness had caught up with the plan in manner of seconds, and was playing her role splendidly.

Abaddon kept running her mouth. "When Lucifer free, the first thing he'll see is Hell in uprising and its Lords walking free in the world, emptied Heaven and all angels either scattered or death…"

_Wait, what?_  "Are you implying that you had something to do with Metatron's sudden temper tantrum?" Fergus asked.

Abaddon smirked at him. "Wouldn't you like to know, eh? Too bad that I won't waste my breath to inform a death man…" Suddenly her eyes went into a suspicious slits. "What – what is this?" She brought her hand near Fergus' neck and brushed her fingers over his skin; they came back with thick, black powder staining the fingertips. "What is this…?" Then her eyes widened. "You-! You're  _cured!_ " she roared and whipped her head around to glare at the Winchesters with murder in her eyes. He let go of the Fergus, who would had fallen down if he hadn't managed to balance himself against the wall. " _You_ …" With a vicious gesture she broke the spell that held the hunter up on the wall, making them stumble on a graceless heap on the floor. "You fools…  _How?_  How did you manage to do this?" she growled as she took few steps towards them. "I destroyed -!"

"Well, we can all see just how splendid job you did", Fergus coughed dryly. He was feeling little light-headed, probably of the bloodloss. Abaddon turned again to glare at him, forgetting Winchesters for a moment. "Lucifer would certainly be interested to hear about this failure…"

Without turning to even look at them Abaddon sent the hunters back on the wall with so much force that they groaned loudly; Fergus hoped that no bones were broken in the process, though Castiel would of course heal them later… And the he was again face-to-face with Abaddon, whose eyes were absolutely terrifying with their fury. Her hands grabbed him on the shoulder, nails digging through the clothes into his skin.

"What are you planning, you pathetic worm?" Abaddon hissed, throwing Fergus on the floor. "Do you honestly think that you could return in your position as a king – puny, pathetic  _mortal?"_  she leered and kicked him on the face.

Fergus coughed out some tooth. "You… are misinterpreting… the situation", he said, letting out broken laugh while Abaddon kept kicking him on the chest and ribs. "You still think… that this is about… me…"

The kicking stopped. "What do you-?"

But that was about as far as she ever got, since suddenly Bela was standing right behind her, holding the sword she had took from Dean while Fergus' kept Abaddon and their audience busy, held it up high and brought it down on Abaddon's neck with all the power she could muster. The flames blazed, blade cut thru flesh and muscle and bone like they were made of wet clay, and Abaddon was no more. Her beheaded head went rolling on the floor, from where Bela picked it up, still holding the flaming sword in her other hand even thought the nauseating stink of burning flesh was enough to told everyone what it cost to her. "Of with her head", Bela muttered while looking the Abaddon's corpse with grim satisfaction.

Then she held Abaddon's head up high and said with clear, audible voice: "Abaddon is dead! Now… Bow to your queen!"

_What a girl_ , Fergus thought proudly, and then corrected himself,  _what a woman!_  He looked around the bar. While most of the demons seemed uncertain and kept peeking at each others like asking for guidance, the group in the doorway simply shared a look, nodded as an one entity, and bowed slightly at Bela. "All hail the queen."

The rest of the demons shot a stare at them before falling on their knees; the flaming sword Bela still hadn't let down of her hand certainly was enough to heighten her authority.

Only one of the lesser demons dared to raise his voice to object; possibly the same that had earlier called Fergus a traitor. "But… but she didn't win fairly! She had backup; Crowley and -"

One of the higher-ups glanced at him dismissively. "She won fairly; it's hardly the  _queen's_  fault that Abaddon was so fixated on earlier king that she failed to recognize who was her true opponent."

Meanwhile Fergus had managed to drag himself back on his feet. He stood wobbly, and only barely managed to see how worried-looking Castiel – he and the Winchesters had been released from under Abaddon's spell when she died – made a move to come on his aid. With almost unnoticeable wave of his hand Fergus informed him that any healing had to still wait a bit; this was Bela's show, now. The angel frowned and looked ready to object; thankfully, Dean was up to date with the situation and put a soothing hand on his shoulder. And Sam… well, Sam seemed to be staring at Bela; or, more precisely, at her blackened hand that still held the sword with no impression that she was going to let go of it any time soon.

_The burn on her flesh is only a page symptom_ , Fergus mused grimly.  _The damage that prolonged contact with holy weapon like the sword causes to her true essence is way more gruesome._

Bela was handling the pain quite well; there was no sign of pain on her face as she crossed the room and stepped in front of the demon that had questioned the legality of her victory. She smiled serenely at the trembling demon as she then plunged the sword in his belly. The lightshow that followed was flashy.

Still smiling Bela turned to look at the other lesser demons. "Anyone else got something to complain?" she asked cheerfully. "No? Good!" Bela took more severe expression. "Now, scram!"

She was obeyed immediately.

Then Bela turned to look at the higher-ups. "Do I have your loyalty?" she queried.

There was some shrugs here and nods there and then the demon that seemed to be on the leash said, "You're strong and cunning, and innovative. We once followed Crowley for those same reasons; now we pledge our loyalty to you."

Bela smirked dryly. "As long as someone more strong, cunning and innovative doesn't appear, you mean."

The demon shrugged. "Hasn't it always been so for us demons?"

Bela snorted. "Well said. You can leave now; I'll finish my businesses here and then return in Hell to take my throne."

"We'll wait", the demon said. Then they all bowed for Bela and, after short hesitation, again to Fergus, though not as deeply. After that they vanished.

* * *

As soon as last demons left Sam was already rushing towards Bela, who started to sway as soon as it was clear that they were alone, and caught her just before she hit the floor. The sword fell from her burned hand, and the flames vanished.

"Bela", Sam said with audible sob. The he didn't know what else to say so he repeated it, "Bela, Bela, Bela…", placing kisses all over her face between the calls of her name. He was aware the beside him Castiel had started to cure the bullet wound on Fergus arm, and that both the ex-demon and his brother were watching at them: the former with satisfaction, and Dean with surprise, at least as far as could be deduced by his chocked yelp.

Sam paid them no heed; all that should be explained would be, but later. Now he wanted only held Bela and let her know just how much Sam admired her. The demoness herself was clearly surprised by his sudden action, but seemed more than little pleased, and cuddled against him like a cat.

Sam could have stayed there forever, but then Fergus, now healed, kneeled beside then and took Bela's hand to inspect it.

"It's okay", Bela said without even looking.

"It will scar."

"Doesn't matter", Bela said and tried to shrug, but her voice stumbled a bit. "She's dead, anyway. Abaddon…" And then she said no more.

Sam gritted his teeth. He didn't want to think what Abaddon had done to Bela to get her tell her about the plan and the sword – thought Bela obviously had let a lot unsaid – but his unhelpful mind was already coming up with some images that were far from pretty. Almost unconsciously he hugged Bela little closer.

Bela gasped a bit and looked him into the eyes, smirking to hide her sudden vulnerability. "Wow, big guy! Where did this come from, all of sudden?"

Sam blushed. "I… I had a little crush on you, once for a while… back when you were still, well, human. Looks like I never quite grew over it", he chuckled. "And just now, when you stood there, with the sword in your hand – you were like valkyrie, like a queen… Well, it seems that I find women with power as – tempting. Never knew that before…"

And Dean – Dean laughed, and that proved that everything would be just fine; the ghost of Ruby wouldn't return to test their relationship. "It's so your style to find out just like that that what you've been looking for this whole time is dominatrix!" his brother chuckled. "But hey, now every member of our family is dating a supernatural person. I got Castiel, you got Bela, and Bobby –"

"Let me remind you that I am now completely normal human being", Fergus interrupted.

"Nah man, you're bot ex-demon and a Nephilim, so nothing normal here", Dean said genially, making Fergus snort.

Bela started to get up, and Sam rose with her, offering his arm to keep her in balance.

The demoness looked at them. "Well… looks like we did it."

"It was surprise to all of us", Dean admitted.

Bela straightened her clothes. "I suppose I should make my leave now – before they start new uprising at Hell because I'm not keeping an eye of things."

"But you'll visit, right?" Sam asked quickly, reluctant to let her go so soon.

"Of course."

"Soon?" Sam pressed, and the demoness laughed; it was beautiful laugh, Sam thought sappily.

"Oh, Sam – You really think I would leave my new… investment without supervision for a long time at a time?" she said with flirtatious voice and winked at him before suddenly reaching up, wounding her arms around Sam's neck and dragging him down into a possessive and downright sinful kiss.

Then she let him go – Sam's head was spinning – smiled at them all saying, "To the next time!" and was gone.

Dean looked at Sam's stunned expression and couldn't hold his amusement. "If only you could see you face now, Sammy!" he laughed.

"Be quiet", Sam muttered back, his face burning.

"Oh, man! Castiel, you think you can take us home now? Can't wait till I get to tell this to Bobby…"

"Yes, Bobby", Fergus muttered in turn and got very somber.

Dean, who obviously felt too good to hold grudges towards anyone right now, but his arm over the ex-demon's shoulders and gave him friendly shook. "It'll be fine, pal! Bobby will shout you at some time, ask if anyone got hurt, the shout some more and that's it. He might made you grovel a bit or make you sleep few nights at sofa at most, but nothing earth-shattering."

"I wouldn't be so sure…"

"Hey, trust me; it's all going just fine."

* * *

He was going to  _murder_  them.

Fergus, for the spell he used to cripple him – his movements were still rather wobbly, but thankfully he could at least move around again, with little help from Growley who had been hovered at his side with Juliet for all this time – and the others because they not only let him go but even went with him!  _I swear, if any of those idjits has went and got themselves killed…_

And then Juliet let out happy bark, and there they were; all in one piece – expect a hole in Fergus jacket which he tried to hide under his hand and smears of blood on his white shirt.

He looked the ex-demon at the eyes; Fergus smiled nervously back at him. "Ah, Robert -"

"Boys", Bobby said with growling voice, "go take hounds on a little walk." It wasn't request, and he was obeyed hurriedly. Then he took a step closer to Fergus, who looked like he would rather be in the same room with Abaddon, Metatron and Lucifer than facing him right now, and said with stony voice, " _You and I have some things to discuss…_ "

* * *

Castiel looked worriedly at Dean as they were being pulled behind of enthusiastic Juliet. "Do you think that they'll really be okay?" he asked.

Dean snorted. "Bobby was angry, wasn't he? And I happen to know that he wouldn't have gone through the trouble to get so worked up for someone he was planning to ditch." He smiled at the angel reassuringly. "Believe me, Cass: those two will be just fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at writing action, and this chapter had lot of it, but I hope that you still found it satisfying enough to read it thru... So, what do you think about Sam x Bela? Did it come too early? It might be... I'm kinda rushing things through so that I can actually wrap this story up sometime this year... But now we only have that storyline with Metatron left! Only beginning of it is planned thru thought, so - I'm pushing myself to finish one chapter at month in bare minimun. Let's see how this goes.


	18. The Trouble May Find You, No Matter Where You Are)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Sam and Castiel get to spent some quality-time with the Hellhounds. Oh, And Aziraphale and Anthony run into some troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLIGHT WARNING for (possible) body-horror and implied child-abuse (it's like, one kick. But it's still a child.).

So they waited the storm to run it course, Dean, Sam and Castiel; all hoping that it wouldn't take too long or cause too many damages. At one point Sam left to bought them some hamburgers, leaving Dean and Castiel alone with the Hellhounds – they decided that separating those two would bring them nothing good, since from all of them Growley was the only one who seemed to have  _any_  authority over Juliet at all. Dean had tried ineffectively to engage her to play 'fetch' in means to get rid of some of her overflowing energy. Juliet just didn't seem to be able to concentrate to the task: while she did – at first - run after the thrown stick, the hound would then get distracted by a bird or a butterfly or whatever and sooner you knew she was already running with high speed in whole wrong direction while barking as if she'd lost her mind, and it took Growley's intervention before they got her back under the control and on the leash again.

"You are hopeless, did you know?" Dean told to the young hound while patting her side, earning some wet licks from her as a reward.

Sam returned, with couple of burgers for Dean and Castiel, salad for himself and a few extra hamburger steaks he threw to the Hellhounds so that they would let them eat in peace. Dean started happily chew his burger, but then he frowned. "Sam, are these for sure the regular ones?" he asked from his brother.

"Yeah, why?"

Dean looked at the hamburger, took another bite and shrugged. "I don't know. It… it just doesn't taste as good as I remembered."

Sam looked thoughtful while munching his own salad. "Hmm, right… Could it be that after eating home-cooked meals for past few months our taste-buds just don't enjoy this as much as they used to?"

Dean scowled. "Are you saying that Fergus just managed to ruin hamburgers for me?"

Sam shrugged. "Might be."

Dean glared his hamburger. "Well ain't that splendid?!"

Sam just smirked. "Are you seriously complaining over someone improving your tastes?"

"There was nothing wrong with them in the begin with!"

Castiel just looked at them as only can someone with barely a clue of what others are talking about. "I detect no difference in the composition of this nourishment compared to the earlier samples", he admitted.

"You wouldn't" Dean muttered. "And please, Cass, don't start to talk like a some sort of a robot again, okay? It's kind of creepy, and you've been doing so much better lately."

"I'll try to remember that, Dean."

They ate the rest of their food in silence while watching the sunset that colored the whole sky in different shades of orange and yellow. Afterwards laid down on the crass, trusting Growley to keep Juliet out of any troubles. "You do realize that we are the worst dog-sitters ever?" Sam pointed out.

"Feel free to stand up and take them to walk", Dean said without bothering even to open his eyes.

"No way."

Suddenly Growley let out a huff and stood up – they could recon this by the sound of him shaking dry leaves off of his fur – and walked past them, clearly going towards the bunker.

"Hey, what's going on? Are you committing a mutiny?" Dean called after him.

"He's sitting beside the door", told Castiel, the only one of them who could actually see the beast.

"Huh? Why-" Dean started to ask, but right then the door opened and Bobby stepped outside.

The old hunter must have somehow noticed Growley – maybe the hound made some sound or maybe Bobby had grown more aware of his presence due the time they'd spent together – since he reached down to pat his head before waving his hand at them. "What are you waiting for, an invitation? Move your lazy butts!"

"Are you sure its safe to come in yet?" Dean hollered back, even while they were already getting up.

"Idjits", was Bobby's simple answer, while he tried to not get run over by Juliet who'd jumped towards the bunker as soon as the door opened.

Once getting inside, they were greeted by rather sulky-looking Fergus.

"Okay, so what got your knickers twisted? Got spanked?" Dean leered at him.

Fergus glared back at him, saying "Do you  _really_  want to know if I did?", with the voice that implied that  _you don't want to know_.

"Erm – no, thanks."

"Then kindly keep your mouth  _shut_."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Hopefully you two won't fight often, it's not nearly us fun as I thought it could be."

Fergus huffed at him. "Whatever."

"Well, soon you'll be rid of us two anyway, so even if we keep fighting you won't need to witness it", Bobby said matter-of-factly.

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

The old hunter shrugged. "Since Abaddon is now gone for good, I think it's time for me and Fergus to return our home."

Dean startled. "Huh? But – Metatron and all –"

"Of course we'll be helping you with the case, but the point is that he's not actively after us so there's no real reason to stay here, either."

"We've a lot gardening to do", Fergus added absentmindedly, like his mind was already miles away, pondering over his little garden around Bobby's house. "Autumn is coming soon…"

Bobby looked fondly at him. "Need to make room for all of that in the cellar."

"We just need to throw your bottles away."

" _No-one's_  touching the bottles."

Fergus simply smirked.

"So… You're leaving soon?" Sam asked. He didn't seem to be any more happy about this new development than Dean was.

Fergus shrugged. "We'll wait till father and Aziraphale come back, and decide it then. If they've a plan to finish that feather-head off, we can stay till it's done and leave afterwards."

"But if they say that this is taking some time, we'll leave right away so that we can get at least some of the work done before it's too late", Bobby concluded.

"Time is what we don't have", Cass muttered, and they all turned to look at him with various looks of sympathy over their faces. It was sometimes so easy to forgot that while Castiel was with no question a part of their mess of a family, he also had another family – one that he really felt burden towards.

Dean put an encouraging arm around the angel's shoulders. "Hey, buddy… We'll fix this, okay?"

Castiel nodded. "I've no doubt that you'll find a way to pull this through, but – I just hope that it won't take a lot longer, or there's nothing left of Heaven to restore."

Sam frowned and turned to look at Fergus. "Now that we're talking – there was something I wanted to ask. About what Abaddon said…"

"Like when she hinted that she'd something to do with Metatron's rampage? I was wondering about it, too. I'm not sure I like the ideas that that brings in mind."

Sam nodded. "Metatron and Abaddon both started their mutinies relatively at the same time. Abaddon had just came from the past before Dean and I with our grandfather captured her, and the she went to rogue almost immediately after she escaped…"

"After you two  _let_  her escape, you mean."

"Fergus", Bobby warned.

"Just saying things as they are, darling."

Bobby shook his head. "Continue, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "Not that there's much to say. From what Castiel has told to us, he first encountered Metatron very soon after our first fight with Abaddon; then she  _escaped_ " – Sam shot dark look at Fergus, who smiled innocently – "and started her rally in Hell, and again, almost immediately after it, Castiel found Metatron's first kill."

Bobby looked thoughtful. "You're right – the timing is way too synchronized."

"So, what does that mean, then?" Dean asked.

"Well, as Anthony concluded, it's doubtful that Metatron came up with his grand scheme all by himself – he used to be a scholar, who as an introvert held no interest towards ruling – so what make him change his mind? Anthony and Aziraphale think that it was this angel called Islington…"

"I still say that it's a stupid name", Dean muttered.

Castiel squeezed gently his hand. "Hush." The angel's face was tight with concentration as he listened Sam.

"No, I don't know enough of him to decide what he's trying to succeed – but would it be impossible if he, instead just whispering into Metatron's ears, was affecting into Abaddon, too?"

Dean frowned. "Can we be sure that there was a third party included? Maybe Abaddon and Metatron were planning this together all the time?"

"Timing, Dean", Castiel said. "Remember? Abaddon was still in your prison when Metatron contacted me."

"Besides angels and demons won't usually work together all that well – the current company excluded", Sam noted.

Fergus nodded thoughtfully. "Putting all together, the idea of the same culprit being behind both of these fiascos seems rather plausible – whether it was indeed Islington or someone else we don't yet know about", he concluded. "Shame that we didn't figure this out earlier – but, at least, we managed to get one player out of his board."

"Hopefully when your father returns he and Aziraphale can tell us more", Sam said. "Have you managed to contact them yet?"

Fergus shook his head. "Nope. But I wouldn't be too concerned – yet. After all, they estimated to be back either tomorrow evening or day after; all that was said here can wait that long, at least."

Dean scoffed. "Well, you did seem little worried about them not answering just a little earlier", he reminded.

"I was stressed!"

"Whatever you say."

Bobby clapped his hands together. "Okay, kids – time to go the bed. This means you, too", he then said to Fergus.

"Only if you're making me company", the ex-demon shot back.

Bobby smirked and poked his nose playfully. "You're kidding, right? After the stunt you pulled today, I'm not letting you out of my sight again. Going against Abaddon all by yourself – off all your stupid ideas…"

"Hey, don't mock my ideas! My ideas are good. Besides, I got kids with me!"

"Even worse."

"Awww, darling…" Fergus laughed as he started to walk away with Bobby. Then, as an afterthought, he turned towards Sam and offered him a folded piece of paper. "Here!"

Sam took the paper and unfolded it, staring at the handwrote phone number on it. "Is this -?"

"Yup. It's Bela's – so you better not lose it, hmm?"

Sam didn't answer; he had already fished his cell out of his pocket and was now adding the number in his log with sappy expression upon his face.

Fergus looked at him and sighed. "Now I probably should give you a talk about how I'll annihilate you if you ever hurt her, but… Let's be hones, she's more that capable to do that by herself. So all I'll say is: you better treat her well, or I'll sic my father on you."

"Um… No offence, but – your father isn't quite that threatening for a demon", Sam said.

Fergus smirked evilly. "Not threatening, huh? Didn't I tell you about all those inventions he came up with to make you people's life even more complicated that they already were? Let's see… If you mistreat my Bela, no credit card of yours will ever again be accepted in anywhere; any order you make in any restaurant will always be misheard and the meal you get is always something you absolutely loathe; you'll be pestered by Jehova's Witnesses no matter where you go; there will never be free parking spot around when you need one… Do I have to continue?"

Sam shuddered. "No need. I – I think I got it."

Dean whistled. "Your father is one evil devil."

Fergus smiled proudly. "Of course he is – he IS  _my_  father, after all…"

And then he let Bobby to lead him towards their bedroom.

Dean and Sam glanced at each other.

"You better not anger that chick", Dean grumbled.

"Wasn't planning to."

Castiel frowned. "I don't get it. Is it part of human's mating tradition to make threats towards the partner of your off-spring?"

"Um… sorta."

Castiel's frown deepened. "No-ones ever threatened me about my intentions towards Dean", he dead-panned.

"Ah – It never seemed necessary", Sam hurried to answer as Dean just stared at his angel, opening and closing his mouth while really missing his words.

Castiel looked at him strictly. "I demand you to make up for this lack of concern towards your brothers welfare", he said.

"Um… er… You should probably ask Bobby to do that for you, since he's – more like a parental figure, you see? But tomorrow!" Sam added hastily as Castiel looked like he was going to get Bobby immediately. "Tomorrow is enough, and, um, you should probably let me explain this to Bobby beforehand so that he knows to… ready a speech."  _So that he don't start laughing at your face before he realize that you're death serious in this_ , Sam thought.

"I see. Am I allowed to share a bed with Dean tonight even while this significant part of our relationship isn't yet confirmed?"

"What?!" the brothers yelled simultaneously.

"Cass, please, just… just let it go, okay? Let's go to bed and tomorrow we'll get Bobby to promise to tear you a new one if you ever hurt my feelings or something", Dean pleaded.

"Tear me a new what?" Castiel asked, while still allowing Dean to steer him away.

Sam watched after them and shook his head, trying to not laugh out of loud.

_I love this family._

And then, as an afterthought,  _I just hope that this doesn't mean that Dean should be expecting a shovel talk from God at some point… Maybe it's just good that he didn't leave his mail address while going undercover._

* * *

And now, let's go a bit backwards in time and see what Aziraphale and Anthony have been up to since they left the bunker in the morning. Because, while Fergus said that there was nothing to be worried about – there was something to be worried about.

* * *

The day started well; the duo arrived on the parking lot outside of the big, modern apartment building where Anthony currently lived, just beside his dear old Bentley. The only one that saw them to appear was a very surprised pigeon who right away decided to search an another place where to mind of his own businesses.

"Home, sweet home! Oh, my darling, how you much have missed me!" Anthony cried and practically laid down at Bentley's hood while giving it a hug.

"Now, now, dear, isn't that a bit too much?"

"Don't you even try to pretend that you aren't at least just as eager to see your shop again!"

"Of course, Anthony, but I won't go around hugging my books like that, do I now?"

"Yes you do", Anthony mumbled.

"What was that, dear?"

"Admit it, angel: you're just jealous that I called her my darling."

"Don't be absurd", Aziraphale huffed. "Now let's just go and check your plants quickly as that's what you hoped for, and then we can go to my shop and get everything ready for our little visit."

They did as agreed, and while they were at Anthony's apartment the fallen made sure to not let Aziraphale anywhere too close of his plants in case that he would encourage them in to a mutiny.

"But I'm sure that compliments would work just as well as threats, my dearest", the angel said.

"My plants, my rules, deal with it."

"But poor dears are so terrified of you!"

"Good. Makes them behave in their very best."

Aziraphale shook his head. "We'll probably just have to agreed to disagree on this, then?"

Anthony nodded. "Compromises are a very important part of a working relationship."

Little later all the plants had been watered; some nutriments were given to those in need, and one unfortunate individual was chosen as an example of poor performance. Anthony walked around the apartment, holding the plant in his hands, and made a show out of plant giving the final goodbyes to its friends before they made their leave.

Aziraphale looked at the plant that seemed to be shaking in its pot. "Where are we taking it?" he asked anxiously. "You know, I could take it – would be nice to have some house plants in my shop, so…"

"No offence, angel, but giving any plant to your care is practically the same thing as committing a murder."

Aziraphale did look a bit offended. "I'm not  _that_  hopeless."

"Last time I brought you a violet you tried to water it with coffee."

"Well,  _one_  mistake…"

"That you then kept repeating. But I have to admit, at least you tried; all the earlier ones died because you forget to water them altogether."

"I did water the cactus, though."

"Till it rot from inside out."

Aziraphale blushed. "But I've learned a lot since that."

"Sorry, angel", Anthony said as they arrived back to the parking lot and he took the car-keys from his pocket, "this one has to go the same way as the others did."

"Which is…?"

"Buckle up and you'll see."

Aziraphale was un-characteristically silent duiring their drive – "Pouting", Anthony decided – till they arrived their destination. When the angel then saw the building where they were going to, he could only stare.

"Is this where you leave your underperforming plants?" he asked with thick voice.

"Sometimes", the fallen answered, refusing to meet his gaze. "There are few other places I use for final disposal too."

Aziraphale's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Anthony!"

"Stop that", his partner said, trying to sound irritated and failing massively.

"But this is a nursing home!" the angel exclaimed. "Oh, dear… I can't even imagine of how much joy you must have brought to them during all these years…"

Anthony hide his face behind the plant, but his ears were suspiciously red as the stepped in.

The receptionist seemed to recognize Anthony and gave them a bright smile behind her desk as Anthony gave the pot to her. "Another one? You're spoiling us, Mr. Crowley!"

"It's nothing", Anthony answered, clearly out of his depths now that Aziraphale was here too to witness all this.

"You know how our customers enjoy to have little bit of nature in here", the receptionist pushed on. "Most of them couldn't took their own plants with them while moving in; you should see how much they like to talk to these that you keep bringing to us, like they were pets or even children… It's shame how many of them don't see their own families but on birthdays…"

"Uh… Right. Well, I – I need to go now, so – uh – goodbye!" Anthony stammered and almost rushed out of door.

The receptionist shook her head. "If only there were more good Samaritans like him", she said.

"Indeed", Aziraphale replied with watery eyes.

* * *

"Still, you could have told me!"

"Can it, angel?" Anthony whined.

"I can understand that you would let me assure all that that you'd – had set all those plants on fire or something while you actually were giving them to a new homes with people who really do appreciate it…"

"Don't make it sound like I'm doing it out of goodness of my non-existing heart! It's just – it's convenient, that's all."

"Really? Then why is it that you had to do it in all secrecy – if it's only convenient?"

"Because I knew that you would misinterpret it!"

Aziraphale snorted. "Surely."

"Don't sass at me, angel!"

"I'm not "sassing" you, dear. I totally believe what you're saying", the said angel replied with totally innocent look upon his face.

Anthony glared at him over the rim of his sunglasses as he parked the Bentley outside of Aziraphale's shop. "You've spent too much time with my son", he said grumpily.

Aziraphale smiled back at him. "And  _you've_  spent too much time with  _me_ , I'm afraid."

"That's not even possible", Anthony mumbled, and Aziraphale laughed and reached in to kiss him.

"Now stop pouting, dearest; we've work to do", he then said briskly and climbed out of the car. Anthony rolled his eyes but followed the angel's lead.

Stepping inside the shop they were greeted by that dusty scent that is familiar to all libraries. Aziraphale exhaled deeply and looked around with happy, gleaming eyes. "I'm home", he said out of loud – to his books, it seemed.

Anthony sniffed the air and then frowned. "Angel", he said, but Aziraphale had already disappeared between the aisles. The fallen hurried after him. "Angel!"

They almost collided as Aziraphale had just started to turn around at the same time as Anthony rushed around the corner.

"Good Heavens, dear!" Aziraphale cried out. "What's the matter?"

"Hush!" Anthony said quickly and covered his mouth with his hand. The angel stared at him with surprised eyes. "Didn't you notice?" Anthony asked, and after the other answered to him by lifting his eyebrow interrogatively, he clarified, "Someone's been smoking inside of your store…"

Aziraphale expression turned scandalized; they both know what Aziraphale thought about any source of fire brought anywhere near of his books. But this was more than just that: The shop had always been highly warded against any intruders, and even more so after Gadriel's unexpected visit. So whoever it was, they were without doubt either very powerful or at least had that sort of spell or item in their disposal… And it was very probable that they were still  _there_.

"I take my hand of now; please stay quiet –"

"Bless me, Mr. Vandemar, but I believe that the people we've been waiting for have finally arrived!" the unknown voice suddenly interrupted him; it was a very unpleasant sounding voice that could only belong to a very unpleasant person.

"Yes, Mr. Croup", said other voice, deeper and slower than the earlier yet none the less unpleasant one.

Antony could see Aziraphale's eyes widening as he stared past his shoulder, and he whipped around to look at the… thing that was approaching them.

It was vaguely human-shaped, but every part of it seemed to be mismatched in somehow: both arms were huge and muscular, but while left arm ended into a matching hand with a ring made of crow's skull adorning its every digit, the right hand was much smaller and had no jewelry; likewise the left leg was visibly shorter than the right one, making it impossible to walk or even stand without leaning on the other side, as if the person – if it indeed was one –, to whom the legs belonged, was constantly climbing down at the hill sideways. He also had what seemed like a hunchback, but absolute worst was the creatures face; they looked like they were sculpted from the stone by someone who had only vague understanding of what human face should look like: the only living part of them was brown eyes, which looked at them with no menace or mercy in them. When the fallen and the angel looked at them they knew that this man could kill them with no anger, no remorse, no feelings what so ever, just because they were  _there_.

Anthony shuddered and pressed himself closer to Aziraphale.

"Now, now, Mr. Vandemar", another voice – that was coming somewhere behind the creature – chastised, "it's not a mark of good partnership if only you get to see them; please turn around."

The thing – Mr. Vandemar, they presumed – did as asked, and they immediately realized that what they had thought being a hunch was actually another head crowing from between Mr. Vandemar's shoulder blades. One china blue looked at them with a mirth, while another… looked rather like an raw egg bulging out from the eye socket.

"Greetings, gentle _beings_!" the head greeted and waved at them with a small hand with undeveloped fingers that grew right beside it. "Let me introduce myself: I'm Mr. Croup, and Mr. Vandemar you already met. We've been waiting for you two, and I have to say, it's been quite a long wait; and my good partner here has never had a taste for the books…"

"Too many words", his partner said.

Mr. Croup laughed; it was that special kind of unpleasant sounding laugh that could made one want to tear their eardrums out only so that you wouldn't need to hear it ever again. Actually, if there was any way to describe it all one could say that it sounded like  **a piece of blackboard being dragged over the nails of a wall of severed fingers** _._

"Ah… um… and what would you two gentlemen want from us?" Aziraphale asked, mostly just to make him stop laughing.  _Who knows, maybe they just want to buy a book… Please let it be that and I might actually sell then one…_

Opposite of what they were wishing for, Mr. Croup just laughed some more. "Gentlemen! Did you hear that, good fella? My my, now aren't we in well-mannered company?" Mr. Croup made another gesture with his hand. "I would bow to you, dear sirs, if our current predicament wouldn't sadly prevent that. What do we want from you? Nothing, nothing at all; we're just your humble escorts, so to say."

"And where were you planning to escort us?" Anthony asked, as they took hesitant step backwards; he didn't felt all that good, and he was afraid that only part of that was because of fear –  _wards, have they done something to the wards?_  One look at Aziraphale's face was enough to prove that other felt it too.

"Feeling little weak, are you?" Mr. Croup asked with falsely concerned voice. "I must to apologize the inconvenience, but I'm sure you do understand why we had to make sure that you two wouldn't flee before we've change to relay you your invitation… As where we're taking you, well – a very old friend of yours is  _eagerly_  waiting to meet you."

"Islington?" Aziraphale asked.

"The one and only", Mr. Croup answered. "But now, let's waste no more time… Right, Mr. Vandemar?"

"Right, Mr. Croup", the other answered and started to turn around again. This time he – they? – had something in their right hand, too – a large bronze signet ring with hexagram in it.

Aziraphale exhaled. "The seal of Solomon!"

"Yes… Rather careless of you, leaving a treasure like this laying around", came Mr. Croups leering voice behind his partner's back. "Oh, well… Mr. Vandemar…?"

Mr. Vanderman hummed and pointing the ring towards Anthony and Aziraphale he started to recite the spell.

"Oh, my – run!" Aziraphale cried, and bushed Anthony to move, but it was already too late. Clear blue light encircled them, and then – they were elsewhere.

* * *

"Good job, Mr. Vandemar", Mr. Croup congratulated his partner and gave them a little pat on the back with their third hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Croup."

Mr. Croup sniggered and would have rubbed his hands together if he could. There were some downfalls to be merged together with your long-term business partner – ah, but those were mere grains of the salt. "Let us leave then – now where is the idiot?"

"Sitting in the same place where we left her."

"Well, why don't you just kick her up then and make her open the door?"

Dutifully Mr. Vandemar did as told; Mr. Croup hear the satisfying cry that sounded more like it was coming from a wounded animal than from a sentient human being. The long travel they had to make to get back from the place where that Door-girl's gateway had brought them had messed them all up in some way: he and Mr. Vandemar had had to learn how to get along with their merged body, while the girl, Door's sister – who had somehow been contained within Islington's person, Mr. Croup didn't know how that worked nor did he care – had lost her mind. As what came to Islington… well, he'd seen worse than that.

And all was just because of one stupid little girl!

"Open the door", Mr. Vandemar ordered the idiot.

There was little sniffling and then the door was opened.

Mr. Croup sniggered some more. "Good, good… Now then, let's go! It's time for some sweet family reunion…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, messieurs Croup and Vandemar ("Cut-throats and assassins for hire"), as well as the girl (whose actual name, age or anything really we don't know, I just like to assume she was a younger sister who didn't yet have full control over her powers to open "doors" in the fabric of reality or whatever) are of course also characters from Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. If you STILL haven't read it, please do, because it just that awesome :) The bold text is actual quote from that book.


	19. A True Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Aziraphale quite hopes he didn't have so many brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was meant to post a new chapter last week, but my muse was lost, and when she finally found me today, I only had time for this short update (honestly, there was meant to be more story in this chapter, but now you just need to wait...).

There was no way to count time inside the Seal of Salomon, so Aziraphale had no idea how long time passed outside while they were being trapped there, but he esteemed that it hadn't probably taken more than hour before they were suddenly released from their prison and sent sprawling on the floor.

"Urgh, that was uncomfortable!" Anthony whined.

"Welcome, dear guests, to our humble abode!" Mr. Croup leered and flipped his deformed hand as if raising a hat. "The master of the house will be joining us soon."

They stood up, little wobbly-kneed and their guards' up; though when you had Mr. Croup-and-Vandemar standing beside you almost as tall as a small mountain, letting your guard down would have been a little harder task. Behind their escort(s), they could see a young girl huddling on the floor, her dirty, tangled hair resembling crow's nest hiding her face from the audience.  _So this is what became of lord Portico's youngest daughter_ , Aziraphale thought with sorrow.

Neither had to really look around to know where they had been taken: the great hall they were standing in the middle of was actually an hollow inside of the bedrock, grafted by someone who had little need for tools like chisel or hammer. Eight iron pillars, one in each corner of the hall, were holding the roof somewhere in the darkness far above them, and just in front of them was a table, candles lit and a wine carafe surrounded by glasses set in the middle of it, waiting for their host.

Speaking of Islington…

In one dark corner of the room, shadows started to move around and seemed to grow bigger – that said, seemed to, until Aziraphale realized that they were simply getting closer. And then they weren't shadows at all – but something more solid; a sickly gray, shapeless figurine made of something… something. The closest Aziraphale could get while identifying its texture would be flowing, tar-like gas. Every now and then it sprouted a new appendance – a hand, a nose, an eye that stared at them before vanishing again; all grotesquely fleshy compared to the gaseous mass they grew from.

It took Aziraphale just a moment longer from him to realize what exactly he was looking at.

All beings are, in their most basic form, made of souls, and souls are often likened to light. Human souls often have some color in them, like blue or white, unlike angels' (including the Fallen), whose souls were made light in its purest form and so bright that no human can look at them without burning their eyes off. And what came to demon's souls, as deformed as they appeared to be, they still were practically normal human souls, only covered with grainy, rust-like dust.

But this, this misshaped thing… as painful as it was to think about, this had to be what was left of Islington's soul, now mixed together with the remains of the body he'd been settled in.

"Oh, dear…" Aziraphale gasped.

"Well, shit", Anthony said.

A mouth appearing into his non-stable 'body'. " _Aziraphale_ ", he said, his voice very deep and melodic, and in every way just exceedingly pleasant to listen, "It's been a while, isn't it? And you brought  _a pet_  with you, how nice… Please come and sit down." A hand-like appendance formed from his mass and gestured towards the table.

As neither of the guests moved, Mr. Vandemar took them by the collars, dragged them to the table and plopped down on the seats, then crossing his arms and standing on guard just behind them.

"Good. Wine?" Islington asked, smiling with his grotesque mouth.

"Um… How very – considerate, brother, but I… I never drink before lunch." A lie. "But please, do serve yourself."

The faked friendly mannerism Islington had been showing them vanished in seconds, and pair of blood-shot, grazed eyes formed vaguely into where his face should have be, glaring at them. "Aziraphale", Islington growled, "Are you maybe afraid of me…?"

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "What? Why, o-of course not! I mean, not any more than what I've done in the past, brother."

" _Brother!"_  Islington sneered. "Dear old Aziraphale, always so polite… And what about your  _pet?_  Or does he not speak for himself…?"

Anthony squirmed on his seat. "Who, me? I've nothing to say, haha, nothing at all, I-"

"Shut up", Islington snapped.

Anthony went silent.

"It's such a sad state of affairs that you, my brother, should accompany yourself with this disgrace", Islington said with pitying voice. "You who was once so great, on the line just beside me; who was chosen to be  _an archangel_ … _!_ " The glare he sent to Aziraphale was furious.

"It was never my intention", Aziraphale said quickly, but earnestly.

"Yes… yes, I know. Never one for pursuits or ambitions, were you?" Islington sighed, and gestured towards Mr. Vandemar -and-Croup. The man (men?) took the wine carafe and filled one of the glasses. Islington took it, twirling the wine in the glass before taking a sip. "Are you really sure you don't want a taste? This is truly exclusive, you know… Atlantian wine, one of the last bottles still left…"

"I'm honored, but no, thank you", Aziraphale declined, and took Anthony's hand under the table, squeezing it to remind him that they need to keep their minds clear.

"Too bad… Now I'm sure you've been wondering about my current, ehm, appearance?"

"It kinda came to mind", Anthony muttered.

Islington paid him no attention. "It was such an  _unfortunate_  accident… As you made have heard, I had an encounter with late lord Portico's daughter – the poor girl was quite hysteric after losing her family… She blamed me for kidnapping her sister –"

"And – did you…?" Aziraphale asked timidly, shooting a look to the child who still hadn't moved from her place on the floor.

"I saved the poor thing from the assassins!" Islington said with incredulous voice. "I was only keeping her safe – she adores me; don't you, child?" he probed.

The girl whimpered and curled in to hug her knees.

"See, pure adoration!"

Aziraphale and Anthony shared look. So far they'd only suspected, but no it was official; Islington had completely lost his mind.

"But before I'd chance to explain this all to  _very upset_  lady Door, the girl had already opened the door and banished us to far, far away; it was sheer good luck that I had her sister, erm, contained with me, or we could never have been able to return. But, as you can see, her inexperience caused us some tiny little mishaps, which should be enough to explain my current  _predicament_."

"Ah, I… I see", Aziraphale stammered.

Islington smiled at him. "I knew you would understand me, dear Aziraphale; we have so much in common…"

"Uh – truly?"

"Why, yes! Weren't we both sent on exile, to life our immortal lives among the human, banished from Heaven's joys? You of all should understand my pain – my longing for redemption, and vengeance… Why else would you've accompanied yourself with this thing", sneer was sent towards Anthony, who recoiled under angel's heated stare, "but to spit them all in the eyes?"

"I didn't –" Aziraphale started, but Islington was too enraptured with his speech to hear him.

"Together, Aziraphale, we could really change the things up there! We could rebuilt Heaven into its long lost glory, right all the wrongs that have been made in the past, and return the true paradise we once had! No more corruption; no more power-hungry officers or war-mongrels making decision for all of us. Just peace and harmony, both on Earth and in Heaven…"

It sounded… well, everything that Aziraphale had ever wanted; ever since he had realized that his higher-ups had been more interested to settle their old scores with Hell than they were worried about the wellbeing of the human kind. The temptation was great, and now he could understand what had made Metatron come back from his self-decided isolation. The truth being, if Aziraphale had only heard Islington's alluring voice, and not seen the bright madness in his eyes – nor heard the constant slurs towards his dear Anthony, he might had as well given in. But Islington was right here, before his eyes, so deeply in his delusions that he could actually claim that the abused little girl who quite clearly was terrified by him was actually bearing a great affection towards him. And here was also his Anthony, whose trembling hand he held firmly in his own; dear Anthony, who wasn't brave, or bold, and who always made a big number of it like any kind of kindness didn't belong into his job description, but who still brought flowers to old, lonely people, who looked so lovingly after his only son, and who had, indeed, been the first one to say "no" when Hell and Heaven had decided to take Earth to their battlefield.

That gave Aziraphale the willpower to tune down Islington's voice and start to think what they could do to escape.

_The girl would probably help us out_ , _as doing so she would save herself as well as us,_  he thought,  _but that wont solve the true problem; it's clear that Islington has somehow used her powers to contact Metatron, but even without her it's still too risky to think that this prison would any longer serve its purpose…_

Suddenly he felt how Anthony's finger started to draw circles around his ring finger, and without understanding the gesture, turned to look at him. Anthony met his eyes and nodded his head ever-so slightly towards their guard; it took Aziraphale a few seconds to connect the dots.

_The Seal of Salomon! Of course; it's the key_ …  _If we only could manage to steal it from his goon(s), we could use it to capture Islington…_  The problem was that he had no idea how to manage that. The prison they all were in was planned to seal angels' powers, so they would not be able to overpower their opponents.

_Some distraction would be so appreciated_ , he prayed in the silence of his mind, sure of it that he would be heard but more than unsure if his Father would be inclined to help.

"So, Aziraphale – What will you say?" Islington ended his talk and looked at him expectedly.

Aziraphale thought faster than he ever had. Should he try to pretend that he was interested of Islington's offer to play time? But he'd never been a good actor, and his brother would demand some proof… and Aziraphale had horrifying suspicion that it was for that reason why Islington had commanded his goon(s) to bring in both Aziraphale and Anthony.

_He hates demons… Always has – He would made me hurt Anthony, and that would blow my cover anyway because of course I would refuse…_

"Well,  _brother…_?"

"Can – can I have a moment mull this over?" Aziraphale asked.

Islington's eyes went into slits as he looked at him. "Are you having doubts, Aziraphale?" he hissed.

"Uh… No, of course not! I – I just… Brother, maybe we should think this over. I – you are not well –"

Islington bristled. "Are you calling me CRAZY!?" he screamed, his voice cracking and losing its allure.

"No – no, I -!"

"I'm not crazy!" Islington screeched. " _They_  were!  _They_  all, staring at me with their stupid expressions, asking "why did you do it" – like I'd done something wrong! I did what I had to – those people deserved it! And then  _they_  had some nerve to try and criticize me – especially Gabriel; like he'd never done anything wrong", Islington sneered. "Calling me crazy – I'll  _show_  him crazy!"

"Too late", Anthony pointed out, "Lucifer called the dips."

Islington turned his grazed eyes towards him. "What? What did you say, abomination?"

"That's true", Aziraphale said quickly. "We heard it from the hunters who were with him – Lucifer killed Gabriel with his own knife."

Islington stared at them and them burst into a laugh; it was a madman's laughter, a window into pure insanity, that was cut short as he suddenly charged them, making Anthony almost jump out of his skin and into Aziraphale's lap as the angel came to growl right against their face. "You lie; either that, or then you're even stupider than I thought! Gabriel is alive; I can sense it…"

Aziraphale gulped to force his heart back down from his trout where it felt like it had jumped to, and tried to process what he'd just heard.  _Islington is crazy… There's no way that Gabriel would have survived from Lucifer's clutches; it's impossible…_

_And yet…_

"So, Aziraphale", Islington said, now somewhat regained his control, "how is it – are with me…  _or against me?_ "

_Father_ , please, Aziraphale thought as he then looked Islington straight into eyes. "I'm sorry, brother." And moving as quickly as he could he flipped the table over and on Islington. He knew it couldn't possibly hurt his brother; but maybe it would bought him and Anthony a few seconds.

"Anthony! The seal!" he shouted, and the Fallen was already moving; but so was Mr. Croup-and-Vandemar, too. Anthony managed – only barely, and just thanks to his snake-like agility – to prevent himself to be captured and possible crushed by Mr. Vandemar.

"Catch them! Catch them!" Islington screeched.

"Az! I doubt this is going to work!" Anthony said while avoiding Mr, Croup-and-Vandemar's attempts to do Islington's command.

Aziraphale decided that they should probably retreat. "The girl!" he shout, and Islington's eyes widened upon realization. "NO! Don't let them near her!" he screamed, and started to flow towards them.

Not even knowing how, Aziraphale managed to get to the girl first and grab her arm – only the child to scream like his touch was burning her and struggle wildly against his hold.

"Stop it!" Aziraphale pleaded hurriedly. "Child, please, I can help you…"

"Tut-tut, brother…", Islington scolded him, "I told you she adores me! Now, if you would turn to look at here, I think you would see something interesting…"

Aziraphale let go of the girl – who immediately scooted away of him and started to wept brokenly – and turned around, feeling his stomach lurch.

Mr. Vandemar's big, crow-skull-decorated fingers were curled tightly around Anthony's neck; the Fallen's face were turning sickly purple as he struggled weakly, trying to get off.

"Let him go!" Aziraphale demanded.

Islington smiled smugly. "You should have joined me, brother – now you has to watch as your pet dies."

Trembling both with worry and un-characteristic rage Aziraphale roared at him: "Anthony's not my pet! He's my beloved!"

Islington's essence shuddered with disgust. "Looks like that I may have estimated you wrong", he said, sounding disappointed. "I see now that you've let yourself to be corrupted by this – thing." Cold look was shot towards Anthony. "Oh, well – you can kill him now."

Mr. Vandemar smiled and started to squeeze – Aziraphale heard scream and it took him a second to realize that he was the on screaming –

\- and then there was an another scream, and Anthony fell on the ground as Mr. Vandemar released him in favor to reach his hands behind his back, trying to grab the trigger that was suddenly sticking out of his back – and on the of Mr. Croup's – who'd by now stopped screaming – forehead.

At first Aziraphale decided to ignore all else as he rushed at Anthony's side and quickly dragged him farther from their enemies. Only after making sure that he was unhurt he dared to see what was happening.

Mr. Vandemar had fallen on the floor, sitting there motionlessly, with a frown that reminded Aziraphale of a lost child. Islington instead was seething, as far as Aziraphale could deduct by the way his essence was squirming and twirling restlessly. "No!" he shout. "I won't allow this! Not again!"

There was a door, opened out of thin air in the middle of the room, and from that door a ragtag group of people were rushing in.

"That was rather well shot", the well-dressed man with very dark skin said. "Did you actually aim on his head?"

"I – I'm not sure", answered another man, whose only pronouncing feature was that he looked very ordinary – especially compared to his companions.

Then there was a young woman, wearing intriguingly miss-matched clothes, and Aziraphale didn't need her pained gasp and teary words that were aimed towards the ordinary man – "Oh, Richard! That's my sister, that's Portia!" – to know that she was lady Door, Portico's daughter.

The fourth person was unexpected, yet not unpleasant surprise; John Constantine stepped through the door and greeted them with a wry smile. But as what came to the fifth and last one…

"Be at ease, Az! Gabriel ex Machine has arrived to once again safe the day!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm calling Islington 'he' instead of 'it' as it was in original novel; that because I've already labelled Az and Anthony and everyone else, so it would just feel reylly strange to call someone it (or they/them, because that word is already used a lot in this chapter, and I've reserved that to Loke). To my ear, 'he' sounds more neutral than 'she', but I apologize for those who get offended by my opinion (I know there are those who would).  
> Door's sister, as far as I know, has no name in canon (if someone knows better, please inform me!). I call her Portia in this, just because it sounds good.  
> And the newcomers are, of course, the Marquis de Carabas, Richard Mayhew and Door from Neverwhere.


	20. Hey, It's Gabe (Long Time No Seen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel steals the show to tell a story as he does remember it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why every time I deside to write a chapter from Gabriel's point-of-view, it's in first person's POV... I hope he doesn't come out too much OCC.

No applause; just so typical. Here I'd made so much effort for my grand entrance and all my silly brother and his slithery friend could do was to stare at me with their chins hanging on the floor – well, not  _literally_  on the floor, but close.

Some beings just have no manners; had Winchesters been there, they might have at least tried to shoot me or something else just as amusing.

And then there was Islington.

"You!" the grey thing he'd been reduced into shouted at me. "Gabriel!"

"Hey, Ishley", I greeted, ignoring that young man called Richard beside me who choose that time to whisper, rather loudly, "Is he saying that that blob is Islington? What the heck happened to him?" to Marquis, who was still standing beside him, totally uninterested look upon his face. The young woman, Door, instead had quickly crossed the floor as soon as Islington's attention had turned to me and was now desperately trying to soothe her sister, who whined and shook and kept pulling out her own hair. Poor child – in what came to babysitting, Islington always had the worst skills.

To give them some peace I decided to continue sharing pleasantries with good old Islington. "You look little different nowadays", I said. "No, wait, don't tell me; went through too many wormholes in a row?  _Tut-tut_ , how reckless…"

"You babble-mouthing bastard! This was all you fault!"

Now that was simply rude, and I told him that much. "Do not interrupt me, Ishley. And how exactly could you current predicament be my fault, anyway? I haven't even seen you in almost, wait… in ten-thousand years or so."

Islington didn't seem too convinced by my logic. "If you haven't been such a tattletale, I wouldn't ever have been locked up in the first place", he whined, like a spoiled brat he was.

"You mean, no-one would have noticed that a big hunk of earth that used to be  _right there_  suddenly  _wasn't_  there any longer as you decided to drown Atlantis? Do not blame me over your own incompetence to hid your trails, Ishley."

Too bad Islington wasn't too inclined to hear the voice of reason, since he just kept bitching of how I was in fault and how I should pay and all that yadda yadda. I with an exasperated sight I looked at Johnny-boy and rolled my eyes. I turn, he grimaced before rolling his fore-finger against his temple.

Oh, my Daddy dearest, has there ever been more perfect human-being?

And yes, I know; he's a chain-smoker and has a terrible track-record in what comes to relation-ships, and is more cunning than all rulers of Hell put together – no, wait, that's one of his best sides… Like his dry, dark humor, charmingly scheming smile, and whole roguish handsomeness… Not even to mention his **BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**

Um – where was I, again…?

Oh, yes – Az and his snake were staring at me as like they hd a hard time to comprehend that I was standing in front of them – which was fair, I suppose, but didn't really make it any less rude that they didn't bother to even greet me after I came all this way just to safe their hides – and dear Ishley, now he was seething with rage while his essence was slowly turning to purple. "Vandemar, you over-sized ape!" he screeched to his henchman, "get up and do something! Catch that maggot! Use the Seal of Salomon!"

But the human-mountain didn't move an inch. Maybe it was simply caused by shock of him losing his pal, or maybe their brain-system were more mixed together that what I'd previously supposed, but he didn't seem to comprehend anything that was happening around him and just kept sitting there in almost catatonic state.

I get the impression that if Ishley had have a body, he would now have been stomping his foot and then maybe threw a temper tantrum more fit to a toddler on the floor.

But, as I had to admit, he was right about one thing; the Seal – and how in the name of my Dad could Az keep handling priceless items so carelessly that even practical no-body's could get them in their stinky hands? – could indeed be useful.

I peeked a look at Johnny, and he met my gaze and gave a little nod; even without saying anything, his thoughts were already flowing in the same way as mine, and didn't that just made him even more tempting!

I noticed that the Marquis was looking at us as well. What an intriguing fella, that one – I had no idea what he might be thinking, but honestly I wasn't paying that much attention to him, either. Door in turn didn't spare any attention to  _any_  of us, as she was still trying to get her sister to calm down – she'd managed to drag her into her lap and stop her from pulling her hair, and now the younger girl was sobbing uncontrollably.

So that left Richard to be the only one voicing any thoughts of the situation. "What's happening here?" he whined – well, okay, he didn't whine, more like hissed, but I'm calling this my artistic freedom of speech. "Is any of you planning to  _do_ anything? I want to get Door out of here, this is not a good place for her sister…"

"Well, why aren't you doing anything?" the Marquis asked him with almost bored tone.

"Who, me? Like, what, exactly?"

"One would thought that the great  _hero_  like you would have no problem handling situation like this."

Richard glared at him. "I'm  _not_  a hero! And I'm never been good with crying girls…"

Islington glared them angrily; it clearly didn't sit well for him us all talking and acting so casually in his presence. But then again, he was rather overpowered at the moment, his only ally being incapacitated and all.

"Okay, Ishley –"

"Islington! It's Islington, I demand you to use my proper name!"

"But it's a very stupid name, don't you agree?  _And do not interrupt me again"_ , I added with my serious I-am-Archangel-you-do-obey-me-or-else –tone. "Now then,  _Ishley_  – care to explain this grand plan of yours? And don't start by whining me about your tragic past – I was there, remember?"

But Islington only pouted and didn't say a word.

At this point, Az had finally managed to gather his chin from the floor – not in  _literal_  sense, of course – and started to explain me how Islington had manipulated Metatron (oh, I'd totally forgotten he even existed – well, he never had very interesting personality, that one) to banish all angels to Heaven and at the same time apparently plotted an uprising in Hell with Abaddon. "I believe that his end goal was to rule Heaven, but I'm not sure how he thought that they would welcome him anyway…"

I waved my hand at him and Az's mouth snapped shut. "Yes, yes; well, luckily to you, I think that  _I_  understand this play." I looked back at Ishley, who now spotted very interesting purple-gray color scheme with greenish hue. "I think, that you were planning for Abaddon release her minions on angels, who at that point would already have been weakened by their civil war and thusly an easy prey for the demons. And then, just in right time, Islington would had convinced Metatron to release him from his prison, and would have appeared on the war zone like a savior, gathered those who still were left and lead them to victory – which, I doubt he would have managed to accomplish, but lets just pretend for a moment that he'd actually had a change. Afterwards, the Gates of Heaven would have been reopened – at that point, Metatron would probably already be dead, used as a scapegoat by Ishley to his his own machinations… and after that, all of those who'd opposed him in the past would soon follow… and then those who would voice any kind of critique towards his rule… and then – well, you got the idea. And from then on, he would have held the supreme power over almost empty Heaven, with his total handful of terrified survivors eagerly granting all his lunatic wishes and feeding his power-hungry fever-dreams…"

"SHUT UP!" Ishley shout and hurled himself towards me – which, really, wasn't very scary, but I didn't want him the leave any stains into my suit so I took a sidestep away from his path and watched with somekind of satisfaction as he rum on the wall with a sound that rather hilariously reminded me of a fart.

"I can't believe that that would have worked", said the snake – I don't believe that he'd said anything else so far, which I wasn't really surprised because it had been already confirmed that he was kind of coward.

"I wouldn't", I assured him, "mostly because Ishley here isn't qualified to even guide a group boy scouts out of the sandbox, far less to lead a war against the masses of Hell."

Islington let out an offended squeak. "How dare you!" he shouted, and took a deep breath as if preparing himself for a next rant; with was fine with me, since while Ishley's attention was in me, Johnny could easily edge towards un-moving Mr. Vandemar and start looking for the Seal. He had very talented fingers – and boy, could I tell just how talented they are! – and felt no detest towards pick pocking, so I knew it would take him no time to found it.

At least, that I thought before Mr. Vandemar suddenly shot into his feet, Johnny's hand being only an inch away of his shoulder, and let out an animalistic cacophony of an sound before turning towards Richard. He stared at him with grazed eyes, sneering like a rabid wolf – will Fenrir forgive me that comparison – and reached his arms towards him.

"You killed Mr. Croup!" he growled.

Then many things happened simultaneously. Richard took a step backwards, colliding with the Marquis and sending them both gracelessly on the floor –Door tried to strand up but his sister hanging on her like a baby orangutan made it impossible – Islington giggled, sounding like a box of rusty nails – Az shouted "Do something!" to someone – Johnny and I reached towards our weapons of choice, meaning me pulling out my old angelblade and him using magic to engulf his fists with fire – and at the point we realized that the snake was nowhere to see Mr. Vandemar let out a scream way too girly to suit him and started to squirm like a, well, like someone who'd just realized that there was a snake wriggling  _inside their jacket_.

The massive human was jumping around and waving and slapping with his hands to either threw the snake away or squish him, while Az kept shouting, "Do not hurt him! Do NOT hurt HIM!" Trinkets of all kind were popping down from Mr. Vandemar's pockets - bones, cockroaches, little rocks –  _tiling_ , there game the Seal.

"That's MINE!" Ishley screeched, but Az snatched it before he'd time to even move and called his snake, "Anthony, darling! We have the Seal, please come off before he hurts you!"

How very endearing.

What happened next wasn't as much so; for instead just letting go the snake decided to bite Mr. Vandemar.

Now I have never seen anyone dying to a snakebite – what, you think that I go around and get chills for watching while people die? Cut me some credit, please – but I have watched the Wizard of Oz, and I don't believe that snakebite should cause the same effect that drenching the evil witch of east with bucket of water.

Mr. Vandemar started, quite literally, to melt.

Door screamed breathily and turned his back to the man, hiding his sister's face against her chest, while Richard turned almost green – I took a few more steps away from him, just for the good measure – and even my Johnny did look little disgusted. The Marquis, instead, looked very intrigued and started to circle Mr. Vandemar as if admiring the process.

I decided that it was best to spare the fragile eyes and minds of our mortal companions to witness this rather brutal ending and even more so from the sounds that Mr. Vandemar was making – he really wasn't going to meet his death with any kind of dignity, that guy – and thusly used my angelblade to cut his throat.

I believe that he will be dearly missed by no-one and will encounter his partner in Hell – where I'm sure they will raise in ranks rather quickly; new any ruler always needs some abled executioners to their side, after all.

The snake winded back at Az's side and changed again to his more human form.

"Oh, dear", my brother reprimanded him gently while straightening his collar and brushing some imagined dust off of his shoulders, "was that really necessary?"

"He deserved it", the snake said, glancing towards Door and her sister.

Az followed his gaze and his eyes grew very soft. "I'm sure he did", he admitted.

"I mean, after he almost strangled me", the snake specified quickly.

"Why, of course", Az said graciously.

Duiring all this we'd almost completely forgotten Islington, until he decided to remind us of his existence by starting to scream from the top of his lungs, letting out incoherent insult and threat after another. It was rather entertaining, but by now we were all kind of tired and just wanted to go our merry ways, so we looked at Az, who nodded and raised the Seal. Ishley's screams turned into a hurried babble as he was pulled in to the stone and then vanished altogether.

* * *

So, yeah, that  _was_  a bit anticlimactic.

* * *

Soon after, we parted our ways with our Underworld companions. Az kept telling Door that he would aid her in any way possible in her journey to return her sister's mental health, and that she could visit his shop at any time if she needed anything at all. The girl was starting to look little uncomfortable and I swear she sighed of relief when the snake finally forced my brother to release her hand and dragged him away.

We all – Az, his snake, Johnny and I – somehow ended up in Az's shop. My brother kept peeking glances at me, and I could practically hear how his brains were whirring of questions that he was still little too hesitant to ask.

Finally I just couldn't stand it anymore, but sighed and said, "Fine, ask what you want. But I demand something to drink, first – for Johnny, too. And lollypops. I want full stash of lollypops."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Addict", he teased me, as Az hurried to gather glasses or something like that, his snake following him like he was afraid to be left alone with me.

"Yup, and for many kinds of things. Want me to tell what the others are?" I asked with flirty tone.

Now  _Johnny_  wasn't a virgin in any sense of word and so wise didn't blush (unlike Az who looked a little scandalized; his snake instead gave no reaction whatsoever, which was kind of disappointing), but just looked at me with a smirk and said, very politely, "Maybe later." But his eyes had went dark with all kinds of promises.

Az better hurry up with those questions, now, or he has to watch how I defile his sofa with this man…!

Then again, he could actually learn something from that…

Az and the snake returned, with various bottles of wine and a big box of lollypops which I immediately took from their hands and popped one into my mouth.

Yum, strawberry.

Az sat down decide his snake and took a few deep breaths of air before asking his first question, "How – how did you survive."

I shrugged. "Dad", I said, as if that explained everything. Clearly it didn't, so I took mercy for him and clarified, "He brought Cass back earlier, didn't He? So, after L-" – shit, that still stung – " _Lucy_  stabbed me, I think I lost my consious for a while, because when I woke up, I was in a bar, laying on a booth, and there was this young, bearded man sitting across me in front of a typewriter and looking rather exasperated. Then he looked at me, smile and said, 'Ah, Gabriel! You're awake. Good, good – you wouldn't happen to know what could rhyme well with –'

"I never get to know what word he was trying to rhyme, because at that point I jumped on my feet – which, by the way, wasn't my best ideas: I was feeling little lightheaded, you know – and started to demand him some answers. He looked little surprised and the laughed and said, "Of course! Sorry, I forgot; you don't recognize me if I don't want to!' And then he was suddenly He – but you don't seem very surprised", I interrupted myself and glared at Az and his snake with suspicion.

"Ah, well", Az stuttered, "I may have suspected – no, it's more that that – there are some things about one writer that have always made me believe that maybe –"

I didn't pout. Honestly, I didn't. What was there to pout about? He only ruined my masterfully put-together story, no big deal.

"I see. Well, then, in that case I'm sure you're not interested to hear the rest of it", I said, being totally cool with it.

Totally cool. No pouting at all.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, I would love to hear more!" Az cried and looked helplessly at Johnny, who probably took pity of him because he then continued my story:

"So the Old Man revived Gabe and then brought him to me at House of Mysteries; practically bullied me to take him in. Thou, had I known what pain in the ass he can be, I'd probably thought about it twice…" And he smirked at me with such a cocky manner that I just had to change the wine in his glass into water right before he took a sip. "Gah! Gabe!"

"You're the one whose literal pain in my ass", I reminded him sweetly before.

"Wait, wait", the snake said suddenly. "The House of Mysteries? Are you saying that when we visited there to look the Flaming Sword, you were also there, and just – hide beneath the bed or something till we left?" He sounded a bit incredulous.

"Well, I certainly wasn't hiding beneath anything, but –"

"But why?" Az asked, and looked at me with very disappointed expression. "Why did you hide? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Az, when I said that you could ask as many question as you wanted, I hoped that they would be little more creative than just –"

My brother jumped up. "We thought you were dead!" he shouted. "We all thought so. Poor Cass was devastated, and even Winchesters were shaken when you seemed to be dead. How, how in our Father's name could you do that to us?!"

And okay, maybe that made me feel myself a little like an asshole. Not that I admitted that to them, thought.

"I had perfectly solid reasons", I said instead.

"I'm sure of it", Az said, rather bitingly, and I'm honestly not sure if I'm delighted or irritated by this now attitude that he seems to be gathered during his stay on earth. At least part of it has to be because of the snake's influence…

The said snake cleared his throat. "Um, if you don't mind – I'm more interested of how you happened to know to come to our aid?" I noticed that he didn't say "to rescue us", which was little offensive, but he kind of was the gist of why I even came, I decided to let it slip – for now, at least.

It was Johnny who answered them. "I  _may_  have placed some wards around your houses", he admitted, not sounding very ashamed by his actions. "Just in cases that something big would happen, you understand? Well, this morning they alerted us, so we came to see what had happened and met the Marquis de Carabas who was in the middle of doing his own investigations; he had been told by  _a rat_ , of all things, that Messieurs Croup and Vandemar were back to business and was looking for clues of Door's little sister's whereabouts."

"We then changed few words and decided that it would be wise to combine our forces, and after meeting up with Door and Richard we busted in Ishley's prison to safe you – and just in time, as you should remember", I concluded.

The snake nodded. "So that's how it went; okay then, next question: Why?"

That took me little by surprise. "Pardon?"

"Why did you come?" the snake cleared and looked me straight into eyes; I had to bite my check to not curse myself out loud. I'd underestimated his observation skills, a mistake which I don't normally do; it was like I'd forgotten just who he was.

"Anthony?" Az questioned; it was clear that it'd never crossed his mind that I would have helped them out of anything but the pure goodness of my heart.

The snake was more realistic. "Think of it, angel; he's been hiding for years, not only from Heaven, but everybody. And now he just marched to safe our hides from Islington. Isn't that just a tad bit odd to you? So, I ask again: Why? What are you hoping to gain out of this?"

I glared at him, but for once the snake didn't cover before me. Huffing, I then threw my arms in the air and exclaimed, "Alright, alright! I need your help, okay?"

Az blinked owlishly. "But of course you know that I would always help you, brother –"

"Thanks, Az, but I wasn't talking to you", I said and looked pointedly at his friend.

The snake immediately went nervous. "Um – me? I – I'm not sure how  _I_  could be any help to  _you_ …"

I gestured with my hand him to shut up. "Yes, exactly you – because,  _Jorgy_  -" he flinched a bit by the nickname, "- I need you to tell  _your father_ to stop trying _to kill me!_ "

They both stared at me. "What?"

I really think that what I asked should not have been so incomprehensible but decided to clarified anyway. "So the boys told you about that night when Lucy killed me, yes? Well, did they happen to mention that I wasn't the only one who died? Well, one of those others was Odin – I'm sure you can fill the blanks."

Az still blinked at me, but the snake clearly got it since he groaned. "So they're blaming you from it?" he guessed.

"Bingo."

"But", Az stammered, "but, I don't understand – Loke, they always seemed so… so  _hostile_  towards Odin? Would they really care that much if he was killed?"

"It's complicated", the snake and I said simultaneously, with that specific tone one uses when repeating something learned by rote.

The snake was the one to explain. "You see, in one of their past lives, Odin committed an unforgivable crime against Loke; a crime that he now have to keep paying back duiring every new spin –  _karma_ , you know."

"What crime did he –"

The snake's face darkened. "Father had twins; to punish Loke for some thing or another – after so long time no one really remembers exactly what they'd done –, Odin made one of them to kill another, and in a very  _ugly_  manner on top of that." Az went little pale. "So, ever since that, spin after another, Odin has to watch how his own children rip each other apart – either figuratively or literally."

Johnny looked intrigued. "In sagas it's always told Loke started it by tricking Odin's blind son, Hönir, to kill his brother, Baldur, with mistletoe – I'm guessing that that happened in fact duiring a completely different timeline than the previous one?"

"Correct", the snake said.

"But then, if Odin has caused them so much grief, why would your father still ache to revenge him?" Az asked.

" _That's_  why it's complicated", I cut in. "Duiring that first spin, Odin and Loke were sworn brothers, which is why the betrayal cut them both so deep" – and don't I know something of that! – "and because karma is bitch, that part keeps repeating as well. Sometimes they are brothers, sometimes good old friends -"

"- and, sometimes – they are father and son", the snake concluded.

Az paled. "I see", he said weakly.

"Father both hates  _and_  loves Odin with an equal force" the snake sighed. "Maybe if they could chose one over another, this repeating would be concluded – but no."

"And now Odin is dead, while none of his children has yet died by another's hand, and Loke is full of poisonous rage towards me because somehow that's my fault simply because I was  _there_  even thought it was the pagan's fault that Lucy arrived because they were the once planning his doom – so actually it's  _I_  who should be blaming  _them!_  But does Loke listen my side of the story?  _Noooo_ ; he just decided to kill me." I wasn't  _whining_ , that would have been totally unbecoming to me.

"He didn't seem all that furious at the auction –" my brother said, without noticing his snake who was wildly gesturing him to shut up.

Wait. "In what auction?" I preened.

"Oh, in an auction Anthony and I participated back when – well, some times ago. You see I'd lost – erm, misplaced, one item and –"

"Not interested, Az.  _Did_  you meet Loke there?"

"Well, yes – first we encountered Fergus and the Winchesters, and then Loke joined us – I think he was looking for his brothers lot hammer – I remember that Winchesters were rather surprised by Loke, and when they then told us that you were dead –"

The snake slapped his face.

I heard my blood humming in my ears. "You – you told Loke that I was dead?"

"Not us! Winchesters did!" the snake shouted, looking like he wanted to turn his slithery form and hide under his seat.

Why of course. "And then Loke did some digging, and found out that Odin and I were in the same time in the same place when Lucy just decided to drop by and kill us all, only that I "survived" while Odin didn't; and so he puts together one and one and comes to conclusion that it was  _all my fault‼_ " So typical. SO typical; why is it than whenever those two dumbass hunters are in the equation I end up been the one who gets burned…?

"I'm sure they didn't mean to –"

I brushed Az's placations away. "What does that matter! Because of them, I have  _the_  god of chaos out for my blood!"

"I'm sure that father will reconsider if I ask them to", the snake said meekly.

I was readying myself to start screaming at them, when Johnny's hands came to my shoulders and started to massage them firmly.

"That's not exactly helping", I told him sulkily even while my whole body immediately started to relax.

"I know, but at least it will make you feel better", he answered.

Az and his snake sat quietly, maybe hoping that I would forgot that they were here – like I would let them get out of this that easily! Or the boys – oh, boy, there would be interesting times ahead for them…

I must have looked a way more calm now than before, since the snake gathered his courage – the little of it he had, at least – to start talking again. "I can make father understand the situation", he assured. "They aren't totally without reason – normally they actually forgive rather quickly –"

"- Mostly because they've already killed the one who offended them and then just forgot the whole thing right away." I knew that well.

I've know Loke a long time, even before they borrowed me one of their old husks when I decided to leave Heaven for good, and if there's one thing I know about them, it's this:  _don't assume a thing_. They will always end up doing exactly the opposite thing that you were waiting for. There's something almost animalistic in Loke, in some ways – like a animal, they live in the moment, listen their instincts and emotions more than their rational mind, are quick in their revenge and just as quick to forget anything that belongs to their past. They are completely irrational, the true embodiment of chaos, and that makes them both interesting and dangerous as hell.

"Well, yeah – may be – but they'll listen to me." Too bad the snake didn't sound as sure as he tried to.

I let myself sink in the cushions with a moan. "I'm done." Johnny patted my shoulder to show his sympathy; I was sure that he understood my situation better than anyone should.

"But Gabriel saved you, dear – wouldn't that matter anything to your father?" Az asked.

The snake shrugged. "They would only see it as a ploy to earn their forgiveness, not as an sincere act. You see, father is rather used to think that everyone first of all follow their own agendas…" his voice faded, and as I cracked my eyes open, I could see calculating gleam in his snakey eyes.

It gave me shivers, and not in pleasant way.

"But, but… If we could convince father that  _our agendas_  – that's, mostly mine – demand that Gabriel stays alive and in good health?" he said with a smirk. "And of course the mission we have for him would take some time – meaning, long enough that father had either forgotten why they even were angry at the beginning or found something more interesting to concentrate on."

Beside me, Johnny sat little straighter. "Oh, indeed?" he asked, and I groaned as I heard the same smirk in his voice, too. "And what would those "agendas" be?"

"Well", the snake said with sugary voice, "we kind of would have use for an Archangel…"

No.

Az's face brightened. "Oh! True! I got so caught up by my surprise over Gabriel's reappearance that I completely forgot that!" he said delightfully.

Please no.

They both looked at me. "Brother", Az said, with a blinding smile, "what would you say about becoming a new leader of Heaven?"

Well, f***!


	21. His Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the all gang is finally back together with few extras.

To say that Dean was surprised when Aziraphale and Anthony, returning from their little tour in Europe, brought previously thought dead Gabriel with them, would have been total downplaying. He honestly had to sit down for a bit, which was just embarrassing. It did help him, though, that no-one else seemed to know how to comprehend the situation either; Sam's mouth was hanging open, Fergus looked like he'd just took a bite from citrus, and Bobby got very suspecting look in his eyes.

And then there was Castiel, who stared at Gabriel with his blue eyes wide a as baby-deer's, and who whispered, "Brother?" in such a hesitant yet hopeful tone that it almost literally broke Dean's heart to hear it. His ire rising, he glared the other angel, who didn't seem to notice him; instead he caught an attention of the strange man with trench-coat that had been tagging along their returning team-members, who gave him a little slop-sided smirk and a shrug.

Gabriel tried to master his world-winning smile, but Dean could see that it was wavering. "Well, hello there, little bro", he greeted. "Ahem, you know that old cliché about death and rumors, right? See, it kind of –"

That was about how far he got before Castiel crossed the floor with few quick sweeps and almost threw himself onto his brother, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck and clinging there like some baby-monkey.

"You're here", he whispered wetly; and then, because he didn't seem to know anything else to say, he repeated, "You're here."

Gabriel looked very uncomfortable and looked pleadingly at his companion, who simply patted his shoulder and then stepped past them, leaving the angel to handle his sobbing brother on his own. The man walked in the middle of the room and looked curiously at he other occupants, who stared back just as bemusedly. He then couched loudly and quirked an eyebrow to Az and Anthony, which made the angel spur in action.

"Forgive me! John, let me introduce everyone; this is Fergus, my Anthony's son, former demon; his beau, Bobby Singer, hunter's grand old man, so to say; Dean and Sam Winchester, very skilled young hunters; and of course Castiel, my younger brother, who is currently, erm, catching up with Gabriel. Dears, this is John Constantine, the Laughing Magician; I think his name has came up time or two before…"

Sam's eyes went wide as saucers. "He is?" he queried, and Dean let out a loud groan as he recognized his fanboy-voice.

John Constantine smirked. "I get that you have heard about me, then?"

"Have I?!" Sam exclaimed. "After Az and Anthony went to visit you, I made some calls – I can't believe how we'd never heard about you before, you're like a legend in Hunter's community! And when I checked from the Men of Letter's archive there were dozens of books written about Constantines and Laughing Magicians…!"

"Oi, Samuel Winchester!" came Gabriel's a little bit muffled voice from behind them, where he still was held captive by Cas, "Do I need to stress on that that man is very much out of limits?"

"Well, I don't know… I might be ready to stretch the lines a bit, you know", John said and winked at Sam, who in turn got terribly flustered and started to stammer something about Bela. Gabriel on the other hand seemed positively horrified.

 _Okay, I think I just_ might _to like this bastard…_

* * *

It took quite some time to convince Cas to release his death-grip of Gabriel, and even then he refused to move from his side. Dean realized that he hadn't never really understood of how much the archangel's apparent death had hurt truly his angel. He doubted that no-one could really blame him from that, considering of all the drama they had been going through back then, but that didn't stop him from feeling little guilty of not paying enough attention of him.

Fergus had been glaring sourly at Gabriel for a quite some time before saying, "So. Decided then to come back to the land of living, eh?"

Gabriel looked little surprised by the ex-demon's biting tone. "Yeah?"

"I see. Never bothered to drop by, then? Maybe just to give our Cas here a little heads up, hmmm?"

Okay, so Fergus was angry for Cas' sake, then? There had been time when Dean would have found it hard to believe, but nowadays… not so much.

Gabriel, on the other hand, hadn't had the (questionable) privilege to spent time with Fergus, so he didn't have Dean's insight to the situation. "What is it to you?" the angel asked defensively.

"Oh, nothing much… Just that you didn't have to deal with your heart-broken brother after the news of your  _demise_  came to our ears. Can you even imagine of how long time I had to spent by calming him down? Hmmm? Because it really took some f**king long time! And have you any idea of how unbecoming it was to me? I was the king of Hell! I shouldn't have been forced to learn bed-side manners at that late day!"

"You were very kind", Cas admitted, and Dean's heart swell out of gratitude towards the ex-demon for him being at Castiel's side when Dean hadn't.

"Hush, Feathers; adults are talking."

Gabriel looked from Cas to Fergus and back again. "Seems like I have missed few plot-points, indeed. Since when did  _you_  become an older brother to  _my_  little brother?"

"Maybe when  _you_  decided to not bother."

"Okay, enough", Bobby interrupted before Gabriel had time to voice counter-argument. "What's done is done. Let's concentrate to current situation, dummies."

While still looking rather salty, Fergus snapped his mouth close, and Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against John Constantine with a pout. Dean got the impression that both of them were planning to continue the discussion later, and were already contemplating new arguments to shot at each other in the ultimate showdown.  _Maybe I should sell tickets_.

"So", Bobby then said while looking at Aziraphale and Anthony, "is there some specific reason you brought the so-called trickster here?"

"Why, am I not welcome?" Gabriel quipped.

"Hush, you. Well?"

The angel and the fallen glanced at each other, took a deep breaths and started to explain their plan.

* * *

"What you mean that you want to make Gabriel Heaven's new ruler?  _Gabriel?_ " Dean was sure that he'd heard something wrong.

Sam nodded, seemingly deep in thought. "It makes sense…"

"What? What in this bullshit makes any kind of sense to you?!"

"Well, he's the last archangel left – if we don't count in Lucifer, at least – and, well… Do you have any better ideas?"

Fergus snorted loudly. "We're doomed."

Gabriel shot an irritated glare at him. "I can't honestly see how I could butcher things up any worse than what you did during your rule in Hell", he snarled.

"I thought that you were against this idea", John commented cheerfully.

"I am! But you bet I'd rather rule in Heaven than meet any fate that Loke has reserved for me!"

"I say we should just give him up."

"Fergus!" Castiel reprimanded, sounding very much like Aziraphale.

"Well, that's  _my_  opinion."

"Okay, let's calm down…"

"No-one asked your opinion,  _ex-_ demon!"

Beside Dean, Castiel jumped a bit and looked at his lap. "Juliet…?"

"Nor your input,  _ex-_ trickster!"

"Fergus, the hounds…"

"Hey, hey! Can't we just –"

" **GGGGRRRRRRWWWWWL!** "

The loud, terrifying growl made the bunker fall instantly in the silence, and now they all could hear Hellhounds' pitiful whining; Juliet practically climbed over Dean and Cas, and by the way Bobby was pressed against the cushions of his sofa Dean could guess that Growley was doing exactly the same.

Gabriel had went ashen. "It's Fenris!" he shrieked and buried himself under John's arm.

Fidgeting nervously, Anthony stood up. "Uh… It might be best if I went to talk to him – He wouldn't attack me… I hope…"

"Not without me", Aziraphale insisted while taking his partners hand; the snake looked at him with gratitude.

Sam stood up too. "I think it's best if I can too. He already helped me once, even though I'm not sure how much of his  _image_  had actual  _him_  in it… We might be able to get in some compromise."

"Okay, I Sam goes, I go too", Dean said, and tried to push Juliet down on his lap. "Damnit, girl! He's not getting in the bunker, you know…" It took some effort, but finally he managed to get up. The hound huffed and whined and little later Gabriel let out alarmed shout which implied that Juliet had chosen him to be her next protector.

Dean wasn't surprised to see that Castiel had followed his lead, but he hadn't expected Fergus to do the same. The ex-demon shrugged. "I still think we could simply toss Gabe out to the wolves, but – someone has to look after you people!"

"And I'll look after you, for the same reason", Bobby grumbled.

"What? Are you all leaving? What about me?!" Gabriel whined.

"You sit in the best protected bunker in the world, with two Hellhounds and Laughing Magician at your side; I think you should be alright", Aziraphale commented.

"I'm sure that Fenris will listen to me", Anthony added, "I just hope I have time to get him on our side before Loke arrives, or it's going to get messy…"

Dean looked skeptical. "We have three hunters, three angels, one fallen, one magician, two Hellhounds and Fergus. Don't you think we have enough manpower to handle one trickster god even if things get hairy?"

Anthony laughed dryly. "Not even close."

* * *

Fenris was waiting them outside of the bunker in his human form. Dean noticed that he now looked a lot better than on the last time they'd met; he was still thin, but no longer as skeleton-like as before, and there were strong, sinew muscles moving under his sun-kissed skin. His hair wasn't as long and wild as before, and he was decently – if not be bare minimum – clothed. But he still had the same eyes of a predator, and now they were locked on them.

"Jorgy", he greeted.

"Fen-Fen", Anthony answered (Dean made his best to not snort, but – Fen-Fen? Seriously?) with a awkward little wave. "How are you today, brother?"

"You're hiding Gabriel." Which meant, enough pleasantries and straight to the business. "Our father wants him dead. Give him to me."

"Um, what about we – talk about it, no?"

"He offended our father. Thus, he needs to die."

"Yeah, but we kind of need him right now. What about we return in this conversation, let's say, after few millenniums or so?"

The wolf-man didn't look impressed. "You're little too lenient, as always."

"And you little too hasty, as usually. You know that father still likes Gabriel; give it few hundred years and they have completely forgotten this so-called slight against their grand revenge – which, by the way, is also getting little old, don't you think? I mean, no-one even remembers what really happened back then, after all –"

"I doesn't matter. Do you hand Gabriel to me, or do I have to come and take him by myself?"

Sam stepped little closer. "I'm very sorry, but we really need Gabriel. He's an essential part of our plan to bring peace back on Heaven and earth, and so –"

Fenris looked at him, and Dean instantly took a step closer to stand beside his brother – just in case. "I know you."

"Uh, yeah. You helped me to deal with my – my traumas. I'm really grateful of it."

"Yeah, thanks for that", Dean seconded. "But we still aren't giving Gabe to you. Like we already said, he'll be working for us, now."

Fenris looked dismayed. "Father wouldn't approve that."

"But can you really think that father wouldn't like to see to what Heaven would change into under Gabriel's rule?" Anthony insisted. "Just think of it! Agent of chaos, taking over the most known fortress of order! When was the last time that any trickster got hailed in such an high regard?"

"There is Maiu", Fenris said dismissingly.

"Yesterday's news, and he didn't make it into the main pantheon, either."

"But he's still loved by many, though."

"All tricksters are, Fen-Fen; but this will be in totally different scale. Come on, I've already broken Heaven twice; can't I have this one change to fix it, for a once?"

"What you mean, "broken Heaven twice"?" Aziraphale asked sharply. "I know that by one time you meant what happened in Eden, but what another time are you talking about?"

Anthony flinched. "…Can we talk about it later, angel?"

"Dear…"

"Um, you remember once when I told you I wasn't very good at psychology?"

"Yeeees…"

"Turn's out I was even worse."

Aziraphale sighed. "Oh my… Dear, what did you do?"

"I –" Anthony sighed, bit his lip and started then talk very quickly, "ImighthavehadalittleconversationwithLuciferrightbeforeherepelled."

"What?!"

"Later, angel – please?"

"You made Lucifer to repel?" Dean asked, too much in stupor to get angry – yet.

"No! I mean – maybe? It was an accident!" He looked at Aziraphale, who was massaging his temples, before continuing, "You see, he came to sit with me and looked all sots of gloomy and we had this conversation about parents and siblings and all stuff like that. And at some point I might had said something about how sometimes you need to make a statement to show that you're hurting and that it isn't okay. And the very next day, he walks to me and says, "Hey, you know what? I guess you were right!" And I'm like, "Oh, I was? I mean, of course I was! What exactly I was right about this time?" And he's like, "About making the statement!" And I say, "Oh, great! So, what are you going to do then?" And he says, "Oh, nothing much – just overthrow our Father and kill all His dirty human pets that are so much more important that me, I mean I, I mean  _us_  – So want to join my repel?" And I'm like, "Oh, crap." … Aaand that's about how it went." The snake smiled nervously at them.

Dean wasn't sure if he was supposed to cry or laugh.

Fenris was the only one who wasn't faced at all by the confession. "That sounds exactly something you could do", he deadpanned. "To start the greatest tragedy of modern mythos, just by accident."

Beside Dean, Sam had started to shake. Worriedly, he put a hand on his brother's shoulder for comfort, only to realize that he was actually laughing. "Sam, what-?" he asked in stupor, but the younger Hunter just shook his head.

"It's just – that must have been the most stupidest thing that I've ever heard – and it makes so much sense!" he howled. "Gosh, all the things we've been going thought – and for what? Because a spoiled little brat couldn't find any other ways to communicate with his dad than try to break his new toy!"

Well, maybe it was kind of hilarious, in some twisted, sick way, at least – would have been better though if they hadn't been the said toy.

Fenris looked at them in a way that clearly implied that they'd lost their minds.

Aziraphale let out a long-suffering sigh. "My dear?"

"…Yeah?"

"Please try to not cheer people up. Ever. Again."

"Okay."

Aziraphale stepped closer Fenris. "Now then, good sir –"

Fenris sniffed him. "You're my brother's mate."

The angel blushed. "Oh. Er, um – my goodness…"

"We prefer the word 'partner'", Anthony inserted.

"No matter! What we're asking, dear – can I call you Fenris? Or Fenrisulfr, maybe? Fenris is okay? Okay, then – dear Fenris, is that if you would be kind enough to ask – just ask! – if your father could consider to leave Gabriel alive and well so that he can help us to rebuilt Heaven. It's really important for us all, and we would be deeply grateful for them."

Fenris tilted his head. "Why should I ask? Can't you do that by yourself?"

"But right now father is most lenient towards you, with all the pain you suffered during your imprisonment. So if you tell them that you support our cause, they would probably at least give it some thought."

"And why would I care about your cause? What are Heaven or Hell to a wolf?" Fenris asked with sardonic smile that showed way too much of his sharp teeth.

"You could always pretend you do…?"

The wolf-man laughed. "Oh, really? And what would I profit?"

"…Our eternal good will?"

"I think you can do better than that, Jorgy."

"Fine, what do you want?"

Fenris looked at then with contemplating expression before answering, "Grace."

"… Come again…?"

"You heard me: Grace. One of your angel friends has to give me his Grace."

Dean went tense. He avoided to look at Castiel, but could imagine what kind of distress and determinedness must have risen to color his face. He wanted to say that it wasn't Castiel's burden to pay, that he had to stop blaming it all to himself – but his tongue felt to dry and raw to form those sentences, and so he said nothing.

"I'll do it."

It took him a heartbeat to realize that it hadn't actually been Cas. His angel had indeed opened his mouth to volunteer, but Aziraphale had bet him in it.

Dean had no right to feel as relieved as he did.

"Wha- Angel, you can't!" shouted Anthony in distress.

"Who else then, dear? If Gabriel was to give up his Grace, that would also null his usefulness, which is the whole reason of this deal, and – and you can't honestly believe that I would let Castiel to do it any sooner than what you would let Fergus to step on harms way?"

"No, but – but –"

"It's okay, dear."

Fergus snorted. "Forgive me, but you don't qualify. My bad, I should have been more specific in that."

"What – what do you mean, I don't qualify? I AM angel, mind you!"

"Be as might, but your Grace don't cut it. You might not see it, but it has been "colored" by Jörgy's aura during the years you've spent together; it would do a little good for me like that."

The angel and the fallen looked at each other. "What does he mean by that?" Aziraphale demanded.

"Hey, funny thing: I've never noticed it before, but… yeah. There is some resemblance…"

"And what does that  _mean?!_ "

Anthony shrugged. "I'm not sure, it's not like this has ever happened before. Maybe it means that you'll now on be connected to our wheel of karma? I mean, there is this one guy our father really likes, and he has been reborning with us ever since the beginning of human cognitive evolution. Oi, Fen-Fen, do you know if he's back again already?"

"How should I know? Now, whose going to pay the price, then?"

There was really no reason to ask.

"I do", Castiel said and stepped forward.

Fenris looked at him and smirked. "So I see." Then his face formed more somber expression. "You do understand what it means to you, right?"

"I won't be angel anymore", Castiel answered just as somberly.

"No, you won't." Fenris tapped him on that back. "Tough pup", he praised before turning towards Anthony. "Fine, then. I'll talk to father – and possibly ask even Hel to put her two cents in it. She owes me a favor, and it falls under her line of jurisdiction anyways."

"Hell?" Dean hissed at Sam. "Is it a person, suddenly?"

"Hel, with one 'l'", Sam corrected. "Loke's daughter, if I remember it right; she's some kind of ruler of the underworld."

"Wow, big guns." Yet he didn't feel as positive as he tried to sound.

Sam's look was one of understanding. "We'll all be on his side", he reminded Dean. "He won't be going through this all by himself."

"And what do you think is our changes to get father to agree?"

"Humm… Rather high, actually. Like you said, while father's still angry they do like Gabriel. Aaaand if it's helping their kids AND causing mayhem, then… What do they have to lose?" Glancing at Castiel he added, "I won't take your Grace just yet, because I think it might still be essential for your cause. But as soon as angels are back to Heaven, well… I'll be in touch."

"I understand", Castiel said. "And thank you for your goodwill."

Fenris frowned. "You're a very good pup, indeed." Then he took few steps backwards. "I'll talk to father", he said as his form started to twist and the giant wolf took its place. Yellow eyes looked at them for a moment, before the wolf howled and ran away.

Dean turned to look Anthony. "Are you sure there's no other way?" he asked with tight voice.

The fallen looked back forlornly. "This is the best shot we have", he answered.

"I see." Dean looked at Castiel who was walking back to him and spread his arms; the angel fitted himself easily in his embrace. "If it's okay", he said, "I think we'll take a moment. Alone", he stressed.

Aziraphale gave them teary smile. "Of course, dear."

Other's went inside, and for a moment dean just stood there, hugging his angel. Castiel's shoulders were shaking softly.

The hunter sighed. "It's okay, Cas. Just let it out."

Tiny little sob, soon followed by another.

Dean stood there, caressing Castiel's hair while his angel cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what happened with this chapter... honestly! I'd nothing planned ready before starting to wrote this yesterday besides bringing all gang back to bunker and to maybe marching Fenris back on stage - where did all that angst come in to picture?! Wait - I've been re-reading One Piece lately... And this chapter is also heavily dialogue-based... But surely not...?!  
> (That manga gives me so much feels!)


	22. Interlude In-Between the Realms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen-Fen meets his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something very short that I quicly put together to clear up (to myself more than anyone else, maybe) why it was essential for Fenris to ask such a big price as Cas' Grace for just to ask Loke to not kill Gabriel. It felt little odd, and I had no idea how I ended up with such situation (I really don't plan anything beforehand, do I?), and I mulled it over and over a whole day and this is what I finally came up with.

Fenris ran, and the wind the blew in the veil between realms sang in his ears as it ran by his side. It was song of the freedom, and he raised his head to a howl.

Somewhere, not so far away, came answering call.

The wolf was as big as he was, and on the first sight it looked to be as black as the night is dark, before just a slight movement made the northern lights start to dancing on it's fur. It's eyes were very old and wild as a fire, and they shined like twin moons; but they regarded him with fondness, and once he went to greet the wolf, it answered in kind by licking his snout with affection.

"My greetings, father."

"It's a good night for hunting, son. Ran with me!"

They ran side by side, like in so many nights after Fenris had finally been set free, and like so many times before, when the world had been younger and the borders of golden Asgård had confined the whole world he knew.

They ran whole the way from the border of dreams to the frontier of underworld, catching few lesser imps that were trying to eat their way through the veil to realm of humans in their way, and finally laid to rest against one of the roots of the great tree Yggdrasil.

"I didn't expect to meet you here tonight", Loke said.

"I was planning to visit Hel."

They hummed and sifted to their humane form, stretching their body like a cat before coming to scratch Fenris behind his ears. "Is that so?"

"I talk with Jormungandr today", Fenris told them.

"Oh? And how is little Jorgy faring? Have he gotten any farther with that angel-hubby of his?"

"Their auras have been mixed together, so I suppose that would be "yes". And he wants to be called Anthony, nowadays."

"So have I heard", Loke said with mirth.

Fenris rubbed his snot against his father's chest. "He also asks you to reconsider Gabriel's sentence."

Loke's eyes narrowed. "Gabriel has to pay for Odin's death. He's fate was not to die before suffering the lost of all his children."

Fenris knew better than to point out that the angel hadn't actually done anything to warrant his father's ire, nor that Odin had already lost Baldur anyway. "Jormungandr wants to put the trickster on the throne of Heaven."

Loke blinked lazily. "That hasn't happened ever before. Not during any cycle that I've lived so far."

"Then it could be a game-changer", Fenris offered. "It should be interesting to watch and see where this is going."

"Might be so", Loke mused offhandedly. "But I think that I'll pass. Heaven means little to me." But they didn't sound to be completely opposing the idea.

"Hel would like it if Heaven would put itself together. You know how snappy she gets if there is some unbalance in the scales."

"Your sister was born snappy", Loke commented fondly. They moved to look their son into eyes. "You sound terribly invested on this case, my son of wilderness. What was it that was offered to you to turn you on their side?"

"I was promised the Grace from younger brother of Anthony's angel friend."

Frown made its way on Loke's brow and deep sorrow shined through their multicolored eyes as they gazed Fenris. "Do the pains of your imprisonment still haunt you so, my son?"

Fenris gazed down. "The burden it casts over my body is great."

His father's hands embraced his face, and he could hear them humming a familiar lullaby from somewhere of his almost-forgotten childhood. Sighing, he leaned on his father's touch and thought back in those simpler times, when he and his siblings had still lived together under their father's watchful and loving eyes, and no shadows had yet to be cast over their future.

Loke chuckled dryly. "So Jorgy decided to use my current inability to deny you anything due your current affliction against me, hm? So devious – and exactly as I would have done. To be at the same time this irritated and yet so very proud - Well played, my child, well played indeed…" They sighed and ruffled Fenris ears. "Looks like it can't be helped, then. I'll let Gabriel live – for you, my children… and for that young angel who is ready to sacrifice his very essence for his brother's sake. Because surely knowing that is a punishment on its own… Isn't that right, Gabriel?"


	23. Intruders and Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the plot actually start to go somewhere... slowly.

Castiel laid on the bed, nestled securely against Dean's side with the hunter's arm holding his close even while in deep sleep. The angel listened his quiet snoring and enjoyed the familiar scent and the comfortable warmth of other's skin against his.

Dean had been reluctant to rest, insisting that he would stay up with Castiel, but the angel had pointed out that they needed all their strenght on upcoming confrontation and if Castel needed company, he could always look out for one of his brothers, and finally the hunter had relented, while still demanding that Castiel would wake him up if he felt sad or lonely.

It was little after 3am. when Castiel came aware of foreign presence in the room.

"Ah, finally", said leisure voice somewhere behind him. "I was waiting when you would notice me."

Castiel shot up, his hand looking for his blade… only to see it being held by a stranger's sitting on Dean's desk, who was using it – of all things – to clean undersides of their nails. The angel didn't need to see their scarred lips or mismatched whirlpools of eyes to know instantly who they were.

"Don't bother", they said. "I'm not here to fight, so please keep it down; I'm nor particularly interested of seeing what you might or  _might not_  be wearing under that duvet. And don't try to woke up your lover, either; I put a enchantment over him so that we can talk peacefully."

Castiel pulled the sheets to better cover him up. "You're Loke", he said.

The pagan smirked. "Hole in one, sweetheart."

"What are you doing here?"

"Not one for pleasantries, eh?" Loke asked with quirked eyebrow.

Castiel frowned. "As far as I know, intruders don't get to talk about manners."

The pagan laughed. "Touché." They changed Castiel's' blade on the other hand and continued their cleaning job as they told him, "I just visited Gabe on the next door and decided to come and meet you on my way out."

Castiel was immediately worried. "You went to see Gabriel?"

"Did I not just to say so? But don't worry, he's fine; thought you should have seen his face when he saw me! He probably thought that I'd came to rip his heart out of his chest and eat it in front of his eyes while it's still warm and beating… Which, by the way, isn't bad idea at all. But, like I said, he's fine. I just came to tell him that he's safe from my revenge, for now."

"So you forgive him?" Castiel asked.

" _Forgive?_ " Loke looked appalled by the mere idea. "No, no, now you misunderstand me, child; I don't "forgive", it isn't in my nature. But currently, I'm willing to… postpone my revenge. Aaaand", they added, just as Castiel was getting ready to argue, " _if_  he's incredibly lucky, it's possible that I might just forget it."

"Forget but not forgive?" It sounded very controversial of what humans used to say.

"Precisely." Loke laid Castiel's blade on the table and stood up, walked beside the bed and reached their hand towards Castiel. There was nothing menacing in the way they acted so Castiel allowed them to approach and place their hand over his cheek. "Such a brave child", Loke muttered, and their eyes – one deep honey brown, other rich forest green – looked warmer than anything the angel had ever seen. "Your sacrifice means a lot to us –to my son especially."

"I'm not sure if I understand  _why_ …"

Loke smiled. "You don't need to. It's enough that you know that we aren't taking your gift lightly." Their smile was like a most sweetest embrace, full of love and deep gratefulness and even deeper sorrow. And Castiel knew, just knew, that the sorrow was there for him, that Loke understood exactly what he'd agreed to leave behind and how much it would hurt him to do so.

He didn't want to cry, not anymore, but he didn't quite manage to hold the tears. Loke sat by his side, not reaching closer but not withdrawing their hand either, and after he'd done, they gently wiped his tears away.

"You're those who always chose a hardest way possible, aren't you", Loke said softly.

Castiel shook his head. "I messed up. The way that things now are… I have to carry my responsibilities."

Have he said something like that to Dean – to anyone of his friends, really – they would have started to argue against his claim and tell him that, yeah, he did make mistakes, but not everything that happened afterwards was on him. Loke, instead, just looked at him, neither denying his words nor confirming them; then he gave a nod before shrugging his shoulders with a crooked smile. "If that's how you think, then… I, for one, have never much cared about responsibilities." And they laughed little sultry.

Castiel was at loss. He'd no idea what to think about Loke. At one moment, they were as warm and caring like any parent had ever been, and in next… Like there were two person's living in the same body.  _No_ , he realized soon after,  _like there were multiple…_

Loke stood up and stretched like a cat, gracefully and sensually. Castiel blushed; somehow Loke managed to look almost obscene. The pagan saw his reaction and laughed heartily, clearly pleased by themselves. Their both eyes were suddenly very dark and inviting, and Castiel had to turn his head sharply towards the opposite fall to escape from sinking in them.

"I apologize", Loke said, not sounding sorry at all, "I just couldn't refuse the temptation to tease you a bit."

"No wonder Anthony managed to temp Eve with you being his father", Castiel muttered crossly.

"Eh? Oh, you mean Jorgy? No, sorry; he's never been that sort, I'm afraid. I'm sure that what happened was a sheer accident from his part – those happen to him a lot", Loke said as they sat back on the table they'd been sitting on before. "You see, he was a very curious child, always asking questions, always wanting to know  _why_. Why is something done one way and not another? Why some words are okay but some others aren't? Why some people get treated a different way than others? Why, why why? And as he grew up – and I mean, really literally grew up; if only you could see how big he's nowadays…"

Castiel frowned. "I see him all the time."

"Ah, but that only his husk, the one he made of – eh, your Father's grace", Loke said hurriedly, and Castiel was sure that they were going to say something completely different at first. "his  _true_  body is still where  _Odin_ " – name was spit out like a curse – "cast it away – on the bottom of the sea of chaos. And he still keeps growing; people nowadays call it entropy."

The angel was baffled. "I just can't understand", he said. "If Odin was so bad to you, then why,  _why_  are you so angry over his death?"

He realized that it was mistake right away. Loke's good-natured demeanor was gone so fast that it felt like it'd never existed, giving way to an icy-cold expression, and their right eye went steely grey while the left one got a rusty-red tint.

"Odin's death", they said, "comes under my call, and from my hand, and no-one else's." Loke didn't speak loudly, but Castiel would have kind of preferred shouting over that cold, measured tone he was given. "He needs to look me at eyes, and recognize me, and know  _what_  I'm doing and  _why_. And", they added, but more hesitantly, something terrible raw in their voice, "if, even once… If he acknowledges what he did… what pain he caused to me… just once… I could leave it all behind – if he only once would apologize from me." The steel got blue cracks on it, and the blood was new and flowing. "I mean, it's not that it's too unreasonable thing to ask – just one shitty "I'm sorry" and I would be ready forget what happened. We could all be free from this karma – If he only says he's sorry of what he did to me."

Castiel didn't know what to say, and he doubted that Loke wanted any words from him, anyway. Suddenly it all brought in his mind that day when he, Dean, Sam and Bobby had encountered Lucifer and Michael, who'd possessed Adam Winchesters body. Castiel remembered how he'd threw Michael with that bomb – remembered calling him "asshat" – and how enraged Lucifer - who'd just been ready to kill the angel – had been at Castiel from harming his  _brother_. He could also remember what Anthony had told them earlier about the talk he'd had with Lucifer little before the Fall.

There were so many parallels between Loke and Lucifer that it was scary. They were both angry, and bitter, and grieving, and while Castiel didn't  _exactly_  believe that Loke had been completely innocent in what had occurred between them and Odin (the pagan wasn't famous mischief-maker for nothing), that didn't make the pain they felt any less valid. And, maybe even more importantly, Castiel had come to know enough about Heaven to realize that at least some part of Lucifer's hardships hadn't been imagined.

But the angel didn't want to think too deeply in it. Because, if he did – if he really admitted that some excess of zeal had been made – wouldn't that mean that  _God_  had done something wrong…?

Castiel couldn't afford himself to be saddled with these doubts at this very moment. But, later, maybe… maybe he should try to look little deeper in it, too.

Loke took a tiniest bit shaky breath and Castiel was brought back to the present. "Now see what you did", the pagan said resentfully. "Made me act like some pathetic sad drunk… I would so much rather be cheerfully insane than deal with all that angsty stuff all over again…"

"I'm sorry", Castiel said dutifully, and to be honest, he felt little sorry for the pagan.

Loke scoffed. "It's your luck that you're so damn cute – and that my Jorgy likes you so."

"That goes to both sides", Castiel admitted, and was relieved as Loke smirked a bit at his comment. Their eyes were once again calm, reddish-brown and aquamarine; the previous storm had left no evidences of it behind.

"Farewell, little Castiel", Loke said with a wave and then started to slowly vanish. The last thing Castiel saw of him was a smirking mouth before it, too, disappeared.

_That was probably a reference to something_ , Castiel thought absentmindedly, and pondered if he should snuggle back against Dean for the rest of night, when the bedroom's door was loudly pushed open. Dean was startled awake by the noise and had time to grab his gun from below his mattress and shot once towards the door before he actually had time to open his eyes and look what was going on.

Gabriel and John were standing in the doorway, the angel covering the man behind him with his body while glaring draggers at the hunter, looking very annoyed; the bullet was laying on the floor in front of them. "Well, that sure is one way to greet people!" he hissed.

"Shut up", Dean muttered, clearly still asleep. "What time it is…?"

"Who cares!" Gabriel shouted. "I just came to tell you that there's a big fault in your security: Loke was here!"

Dean blinked (rather endearingly, in Castiel's mind). "What?"

Gabriel huffed impatiently. "What are you, a buffoon? Loke was here! Like, just a moment ago! Appeared in my room out of nowhere, almost scaring me out of my skin…!"

Sam came to stand behind the newcomers, looking just as coherent as Dean. "Loke… was here?" he asked.

Gabriel glared at him, too, and then at John, who had started to chuckle. Then he threw his hand in the air. "I can't believe this…!"

"But it's alright, isn't it?" Castiel said quickly. "They said that your safe for now, didn't they?"

Now they all were staring at him. "And how do you know?" Dean asked.

"They came to see me too", Castiel confessed, and, as Dean looked ready to start shouting, continued hurriedly, "They just wanted to see me! And… thank me, I guess."

"Thank?" New voice questioned, and Fergus elbowed his way in the room, closely followed by Bobby. "Thank about what, exactly?"

"Yeah, go on, just march in other people's rooms with no care", Dean muttered. His dream-muddled brains had finally catch up with his near-naked state that only sheets covered, and Castiel believed that the blush on his cheeks was only  _partly_ because of anger.

"Shut up, Squirrel", Fergus offered. "Castiel, explain."

Castiel fidgeted a bit now that everyone's (minus Aziraphale and Anthony, who, strangely enough, hadn't yet arrived) attention was on him. "They… thanked me. For my grace, you know. Said that it means a lot for Fenris – but don't ask me why, since I've no idea."

Dean looked, if possible, even more angry, but managed to keep it under his control – at least for now.

Fergus nodded curtly. "I see. …And was that all, Feathers?"

"Yes", Castiel said, hoping dearly that he sounded assuring enough. He'd no intentions to tell anyone else about his new doubts considering Lucifer's fate.

Fergus scrutinized him in a way that clearly told about suspicion, but then just shrugged and said, "Well, if that's all, then let's all go back to sleep."

By that, the ex-demon deserved some stares from Dean, Sam and Gabriel (Bobby remained expressionless, John got calculating look in his eyes, and Castiel, himself, was stupefied by Fergus giving up the case so easily).

"What do you mean, "go back to sleep"? Some half-crazy pagan just broke in the bunker!" Dean snarled.

"And harmed no-one", Fergus said offhandedly. "And we're all too tired to think straight right now – well, except Castiel, but looks like he already has something to sort out on his own."

"Aren't you taking this little too lightly?" Sam asked.

Fergus' counterargument was prevented by Bobby, who said, "No-one's taking this lightly, Sam. But look up the facts: Loke was here, which, not very good. But on the other hand, everyone's alright, which means, so far, so good. Of course this means we'll have to look through the wards and see if there's anything we can do to strengthen them, but right now we're still half-asleep, at least most of us, so we need to leave it tomorrow."

"But-"

"Tomorrow,  _understood?_ "

Sam relented. "Yes, tomorrow."

One by one everyone returned to their rooms, leaving only Dean's bedrooms official occupants behind.

Dean looked at Castiel. "Was that really all they talked you about? Of how  _grateful_  they are?" The hunter almost snarled word "grateful".

"Yes, Dean."

"You sure about that?" Dean insisted.

"I… might had got something to think about of how they – reacted to something I said", the angel admitted. "But it's nothing serious!"  _I hope._

Dean frowned, then sighed, and fell back on the bed. "You really should not hold so many secrets, Cas", he said, while pulling the angel into his arms, which Castiel certainly had nothing against of.

"Fergus says that  _secrets make woman a woman_."

"You're not a woman, Cas."

"No I'm not."

Dean blinked his eyes and looked at Castiel with startled eyes. "You're smirking."

"It seems like I do."

"Holy shit, are you… are actually teasing me?"

"I try to. Is it working?"

Instead of answering with words, Dean kissed him, rather hungrily, if Castiel was one to judge.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Dean growled. "Come back at the actual morning!"

"Dean?" came Aziraphale's voice from the other side. "I'm sorry, I was looking for Castiel. Could you ask if he'd like to sit me for a while? You see, Anthony's father came to visit us – they promised to not harm Gabriel until later, if they haven't forgotten it by then – and decided to stay overnight. I left the two of them talk in peace, but it's rather lonely this late at night…"

Dean moaned loudly. "You gotta be kidding me -!"

* * *

The next few days after Loke's visit were spent by making a countless of plans, arguing about them, revising them repeatedly and then abandoning them one by one. And Castiel, while trying to concentrate on the coming confrontation, found himself slipping deeper and deeper into a silent depression the more the thought of losing everything that had made him, well,  _him_ , kept sinking in. For everyone's sake he tried to keep it down and act as if it didn't bother him too much, but at the same time he was quite sure that the façade wasn't enough to fool anyone.

Finally it was Fergus who got fed up with it first.

"Listen, Feathers", the ex-demon said, "if you have enough time to skulk around while enjoying your upcoming martyrdom, you should have plenty of time to help me in kitchen instead."

It was of course totally unfair, and Dean was quick to get offended by it. "Hey! Wait a second here, you heartless –"

Fergus looked coldly at him. "Yes, Winchester?"

"You leave Cas alone! He has enough in his plate without you talking this harshly at him!"

"Oh, sue me! Do you maybe think that we should just let him to suck off his own misery? Because I think its clear that it isn't helping him in any way at all."

"Cas is dealing with this as well as he can!"

"He's not "dealing" with it in any way at all! He's  _mulling_  in it. What he needs is something to do to keep his mind out of it for a while."

"Oh? Like you know anything about it."

"Well, I don't know. Which one of us had to  _learn_  to be a human again after centuries spent as a demon? The situation might not be exactly the same, but I would presume I know  _something_  of it."

Dean frowned and scoffed but was clearly admitting his defeat because instead of continuing the argument he settled just muttering to himself and glaring at Fergus.

"Good. And now, Castiel – to the kitchen, go."

No-one bothered to ask Castiel what he thought about this new twist, but that was kind of the story of his life, anyway.

* * *

So after that Fergus kind of took monopoly over Castiel's free time. The ex-demon taught him everything from the basics – like boiling water and brewing coffee – to bigger culinary advances – like soups, risottos, and, most importantly, the fine art of pie-baking.

"Bobby and I will leave anyway as soon as this mess is dealt with, so it will be your job to make sure that those two – especially Dean – won't kill themselves by only eating fast-food and beer all the time", Fergus explained as they sat peeling potatoes for the mush.

And though Castiel had his doubt of it, after couple of days he had to admit that Fergus' plan was working: the more he had to do, the less he fallowed in his dark thoughts.

The ex-demon also told him about the time he'd just gotten his soul back, the thing which he'd done to no-one – maybe excluding Bobby – and gave him advises of how to deal with all that had came with it. Fergus really was making sure that Castiel would be as prepared to what was coming as possible, and the angel appreciated the gesture.

"The worst thing were the feelings", Fergus admitted. "They were just overflowing. One moment, I could feel completely content, and the burst in tears in a second. I tried to stay in my room as much as possible – I just couldn't handle being surrounded by people, when all it took was one word or touch to reduce me into emotional  _wreck_."

Or,

"Your senses will probably go one to ten in seconds. Scents, flavors, sounds – none of them will be filtered by your host any longer. So take it easy: start with bland food – like boiled vegetables with only a bit of salt –, and stay in your room if you feel it's too much. There's no rush."

Or,

"Remember that the body you now wear will really be yours. You need to take care of it: six to eight hours of sleep and at least three meals  _daily_. Brush your teeth twice a day and also try to shower daily, if possible; sweat smells nasty."

It was very touching.

* * *

When it had been week after Loke's visit, they'd all came to conclusion that only way to do this was to find Metatron and  _talk_  to him. Actually, finding the angel wasn't really an issue, since they all knew he stayed in Heaven, being It's only current resident, but to get there was proving to be a way bigger problem.

"There's no way he'll willingly open the Gates for us", Sam summed up what everyone thought of duiring the dinner.

"No politics on the table", Fergus said, but didn't sound very insisting.

"Could we get through with manpower?" Dean asked. "Gabriel could give a 'come with me if you want to life' -speech to those other feather-brains and we could have an army of very pissed-off angels in our command."

Gabriel shook his head. "The Gate isn't physical object that you can simply push through. It's more like a portal, and it can only be opened from Heaven."

"So back to square one", Sam sighed.

"Is it possible that we could fool Metatron to let one of us in?" Bobby asked. "If one of you angels pretended to 'see the light', and then open the Gate to rest of us while keeping his distracted?"

"I don't believe he would trust any of us", Aziraphale said. "Castiel already made his opinion very clear to him, and there has never been any love lost between Metatron and I."

"And what comes to me", Gabriel added, "he always seemed to think that I was irresponsible, feeble-minded fool who speaks way too much."

"Good to see that nothing has changed after that", John smirked, earning a little glare and poke to his ribs from Gabriel.

"Horse of Troy is still our best bet", Sam said. "We just need someone else to deliver it. What about that friend of yours… um, Hannah?" he asked from Castiel.

The angel frowned. "I think that she made it rather clear that she wants nothing to do with me any longer."

"And I would be against it anyway", Dean added.

"Someone's jelly", Gabriel leered. It really shouldn't surprise Castiel that much that he already know what had aspired between the three of them; the archangel clearly enjoyed gossiping.

The hunter's cheeks got red tint. "Shut it!"

"No fighting on the table, either!" Fergus said.

Dean grumbled. "Yes,  _mum_."

Sam bit his lip. "The there's still one option left…"

Fergus squinted at him. "You can't mean…"

Sam nodded. "Yup. Gadreel."

Anthony dropped the fork he'd been holding. "What? Him? Huh?"

"Well, he's the only one we knew who Metatron might not know we've connected with. Plus, he has to know about the history between you two", he added, looking pointedly at Anthony. "He wouldn't expect us to be in friendly terms."

Dean frowned. "But didn't Metatron took his Grace? Why would he think that Gadreel would take his side after  _that?_ "

"Because Gadreel would be  _desperate_. Think about it: he has no Grace, no allies, no place to go. Other angel's see him as a fugitive. He tried to kill Anthony, which from Metatron's point of view would alienate him from us. And, let's not forget, that while he could held many things against Metatron, the Heaven as whole really hasn't treated him any better. He could as well take his change with Metatron."

"And after telling Gadreel  _that_ , how could we convince him to not do just that and pledge his loyalties for Metatron but follow our plan instead?" Fergus asked.

"Because we offer him better prise", Sam said.

"And what could that be? My father's head on a plate, maybe?"

Anthony gulped. "I don't think I quite like where this conversation is going…"

"No, no! I mean, we could offer him a place as – as a co-ruler of sorts – as soon as Metatron is defeated."

Gabriel didn't look pleased. "I should share my throne with Gadreel?"

"What's the big deal? Just a week ago you didn't want the throne at all", Dean reminded him.

"But with  _Gadreel!_  He's so… so… boring."

"Could be a good thing", John said. "Someone should keep your feet on the ground – or the cloud."

"And Gadreel has first-hand knowledge just how broken the Heaven became duiring the centuries after you left and God went absence", Aziraphale added, clearly getting into the idea. "And it would be ideal to have another opinion beside your own when making decisions."

" _But Gadreel_ ", Gabriel whined, but gave no other arguments after that.

Sam coughed. "So, that's decided, then? Should I give him a call?" He looked around the table, his gaze stopping on Fergus.

The ex-demon sighed. "There really isn't anyone else?"

"Nope."

"Fine, then. But you better make sure he takes no moves towards my father; cause if he does, all bets are off!"

* * *

On the very next day, rather dragged-looking Gadreel appeared behind their door.

* * *

_Sam's POV_

"It's good to see you", Sam greeted. He'd started to say 'it's good to see you're okay', but left the last part away because the Graceless angel didn't look good, far for it: he was thin and dirty and had broken, haunted look in his eyes.

Gadreel grunted for answer. "You called me", he said matter-of-factly.

"Would you like to come inside? We have a meal ready", he added after seeing the hesitation on other's face.

While still looking suspecting, Gadreel followed the hunter inside. Sam felt stab of guilt; why hadn't they tried to contact the angel more frequently? They could have helped him, at lest by offering some money for food or clean clothes.

"How – how have you been?" he asked, while they arrived on the kitchen. Dean and Castiel were waiting them in there; they'd decided that Fergus, Anthony and Aziraphale should stay out of the way at least for now, and Bobby was keeping an eye on them.

Gadreel shrugged. He eyed Dean and Sam while settling down on the table – Castiel offered a smile that went unanswered – and Sam quickly fetched the food that they'd put aside for the angel.

There was no conversation while Gadreel ate; it simply wouldn't have been possible, considering how the angel gulped down his meal like a starved wolf. When the plate started to empty Castiel pushed the breadbasket closer to Gadreel, as if fearing that if the food ended he would next try to eat them.

When satisfied, Gadreel put rest of the bread from the basket into his pockets and looked at them expectedly. "Well, here I am. What do you want?"

Hoping to hide his nervousness Sam smiled at him while asking, "Would you like to take a shower first? And maybe change your clothes, too? We've time."

Gadreel frowned. "Is that some brush-around way to tell me that I stink? Cause believe me, I know."

"What? No, no at all! I mean – yes, but –"

"What Sam means is that while you stink like a raccoon that has been laying death in the sewer for two weeks, he only asked if you wanted to shower because he hopes that that would make you  _feel_  better", Dean said.

Gadreel crossed his arms. "And is this offer no longer valid  _after_  I've heard what you have to say?" he asked.

"We aren't planning to chase you away, brother", Castiel assured. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want or need – you always were."

Gadreel scoffed. " _Brother!_ " He laughed mirthlessly. "Well,  _brother_ , where were you when – no, forget it. Tell me what you want. I'll decided what I do after I've heard you out."

Sam nodded and took a breath. "Okay, Gadreel. I'll tell you everything…"


	24. The End of the Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter (before epilogue, which will come eventually...).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's month late, but then again it's the longest chapter I've wrote so far! Now I only have epilogue left...  
> I actually didn't even remember that they never revoked Metatron's spell in the TV-series! That's why angels still have to use that portal whenever they want to visit Heaven... Here I created my own solution for this problem; it's bossibly full of plotholes but it's best I could currently come up with.  
> Please note that the first flashback in this story linearly happens after the second one, but because of the flow of the story (if there's any) I had to wrote them in that order.

_Why did I agreed to do this?_ Gadreel thought as he followed Metatron through the empty halls of Heaven. The Scripter kept rambling about his grand plans and designs, of how things would soon be just like they were before Father left the building – no, even better! Gadreel himself didn't say much, just nodded or muttered something confirming whenever the other turned and peered at him with little too gleaming, almost half-crazed eyes.

_He's mad… And so am I, coming here all my own. Why again did I let them to talk me into this?_

But he did know all too well why…

_..._

_When Samuel had finished explaining Gadreel his plan, he'd first laughed against his face. It was beyond stupid to think that they could ever beat Metatron with so simplistic scheme! But Winchesters and Castiel insisted that the odds had often worked towards their benefit before, and no-one seemed to have better plan anyways. In which Gadreel said that he owed them nothing, except maybe one meal and that would be way too big price to pay for that._

" _Could we at lest ask the others to join us so we could talk about this all together?" Samuel asked and looked at Gadreel with what he could only describe as puppy-dog eyes._

" _I won't converse with the Snake!"_

" _What about only Aziraphale and Gabriel? Could you stand their company for a while?"_

_Gadreel gritted his teeth. Aziraphale had once been his friend, back in the Eden – they'd guarded it together, after all – but then he'd turned his back to Heaven and even befriended with the Snake who was the reason of all Gadreel's misfortune. Gabriel, on the other hand, he'd always found rather insufferable – loud and lazy and oh so annoying – but at least he'd courtesy to not fraternize with the enemies._

" _I'll talk to Gabriel, but no-one else", he finally agreed._

_The archangel had joined them accompanied by human mage, who introduced himself as John Constantine. Gabriel himself was just as bad as the angel had remembered, if not even_ worse _._

_They went through the plan again, step by step, stripping over the loopholes and then shrugging them of with an attitude of "we'll think of something if/when it comes to it". Gadreel refused to be satisfied by that._

" _How would I even fool him to let me in Heaven? He stole my Grace; he should know that I'm against him!"_

_Gabriel laughed. "Oh, that's the easy part: just play pathetic, whining little loser. Shouldn't be to hard, considering that you already are pathetic –"_

_At this point the archangel's ribs were poked – rather hard – with an elbow by both Samuel and Constantine. Gabriel glared at them before crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on his chair looking very much like a petulant child._

" _I know it might sound crazy", Samuel agreed, "but it might be our only change. Right now, Metatron is with no allies on his side, and we're sure he didn't plan it that way – he was trusting at least to Islington to stand by him –while he well knows that the confrontation is upcoming. He knows Aziraphale and Castiel had chosen their sides, and there's no sigs of him trying to take contact with either of the fractions on earth. So what about you? Metatron knows as well as anyone how much you hate Anthony, as well as that we're in league with him. It's also plausible to assume that he's been keeping taps on you as a possible threat, so he should be aware of how hard it's been to you to cope here without any allies or even your Grace. I believe that if you manage to play your role convincing enough, he'll let you enter in Heaven, thinking that, 'okay, I screwed him over, but the Heaven in whole has been doing that for him for centuries, so…' I know it's a slim change, but… it could be all we have." The hunter sounded very earnest._

" _It still sounds like a suicide mission", Gadreel noted._

_The hunter flinched. "Erm, well…"_

" _I've come to see that you should never underestimate Winchester's luck", Castiel said seriously. "Whenever we've been in tough situation, they'll come up with a plan, and no matter how "half-assed" it may sound, we've always succeed. It's almost like they've fates themselves on their side…"_

" _Or_ maybe _we're just good at our job", Dean insisted._

" _No-ones that good all the time, Dean." The young angel sounded so sure about himself that no-one dared to opposite him._

_Gadreel drummed his nails against table. "So, if – if – I agree to do this, and by some miracle Metatron let's me in… What are your changes to actually win him in battle, if I let you in Heaven?"_

_Gabriel scoffed. "Hello? Archangel, here?"_

" _And Metatron has an endless power source in his disposal in a form of all the souls in Heaven", Gadreel countered._

" _If everything goes as planned, he won't have that power source", Samuel reminded him._

" _And if it doesn't?"_

_Constantine shrugged. "Then we'll improvise." He made it sound like he'd a long experience of improvising._

_Gadreel felt need to roll his eyes, and he seriously doubted that he was the only one. "In nutshell: Metatron let's me in, I bluff him while you sneak in, you fight him and that's it? Sounds little too easy."_

_Samuel scratched his neck. "Well… about that fight…"_

_Gadreel looked sharply at him. "Is there something else I might want to know?"_

_It was Castiel who answered him this time. "Aziraphale wants to try and talk with Metatron first."_

Excuse me. _"What?!"_

_Castiel squirmed on his seat. "He thinks that since Metatron was somewhat… coerced to start this, he might be able to reason with him now that Islington has been sealed away." It didn't sound like he was being very convinced about that, either._

" _Is he crazy?" Gadreel wouldn't actually be surprised if that was just the case._

_Castiel frowned, clearly not liking Gadreel's tone. Gabriel, on the other hand, just laughed shortly. "Oh, he definitely is, but he can also be very convincing, especially when holding that big, flaming sword of his, so…"_

_Gadreel was still staring at him when Constantine suddenly laughed and said, "Yeah, I've noticed your weakness when it comes to_ big swords _."_

_His tone implied that there was a double-meaning, and the way both Samuel and Dean groaned proved it well (Castiel just looked mystified, so at least him hadn't been completely corrupted)._

_Gabriel looked coolly at Constantine and said, "Not when they belong to my brother! Besides", he then continued, with sly smile and twinkling eyes, "your 'sword' isn't_ that _impressive!"_

_Gadreel didn't often swear – and greatly disapproved those angels who followed that vulgar, human habit – but if there ever was a moment to give it a pass, it was now._

" _Oh, f**k you all!"_

_..._

_Fools_ , Gadreel thought, as he watched Metatron's back. It wouldn't take much, just one quick stab with angel blade – which he, of course, didn't have. The Scriber might have been going little crazy, but that didn't mean he was stupid.  _Unlike Aziraphale… or me, for agreeing into this…_

"- Hello? Gadreel? Are you listening me?" Metatron sounded mildly irritated.

"Uh, yes…! I just – It's been long since I last time walked in these halls." Gadreel quickly explained, inwardly praising himself for thinking up that excuse beforehand.

Metatron took sympathetic expression. "Oh, yes. It must feel overwhelming, doesn't it?" Without waiting for answer, he continued, "Of course this all is just a pale shadow of what it once was – but soon, soon we'll rise Heaven back to It's old glory!" He started to prattle again – all the things that Gadreel had already heard more that twice since Metatron let him in, which kind of made it sound like he was reciting the scrip someone else gave to him (which, again, made Aziraphale's claims of third party more coherent but certainly didn't justify anything).

Gadreel tuned his "brother" off again and prayed that his "allies" wouldn't take too long to make their move…

_And then_ , he thought grimly,  _I decide if I'm going to make mine…_

* * *

**Little earlier in the Bunker …**

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Dean asked.

Fergus rolled his eyes. "Are you aware that that's fourth -"

"Fifth", Castiel corrected.

"-  _fifth_  time you ask me that?"

"Well, excuse me, princess!"

Sam sighed. "It's not like we don't trust you, Fergus", he assured. "It's just – well, you aren't the king of Hell anymore. Maybe your old contacts don't feel like they should keep contact any longer…?"

"This is different", Fergus insisted.

"How so?"

"Because this is  _personal_  acquaintance."

Now Bobby frowned. "How personal?"

Fergus shrugged. "It's nothing you should be worried about, darling", he said flippantly. "She's only a friend."

"Well, that's certainly one way to put it", said someone. A someone who was standing right behind them. In the bunker.

There were curses thrown all around when all occupants twirled around while trying to catch their weapons of choice.

The dark-skinned woman lifted one of her eyebrow's at them. The fact that that was her only reaction while facing three hunters, three angels, one fallen, one magician, two hellhounds (with one of them, judging by the sounds, was jumping all around her, barking enthusiastically) and the ex-king of Hell (who just smirked at her and waved with his fingers), was proof enough to tell that she was to be taken seriously.

The woman decided to not pay attention to the others and instead focused her attention at Fergus. "Okay, Crowley", she said, sounding rather exasperated, "what is it this time? Did you start a fight with someone bigger and meaner than you again?"

"You make it sound like I only call you when I need help."

"Well, isn't that the case?"

"I send you memes, too!"

The woman rolled her eyes. "And I've asked you to not bother."

Bobby interrupted them with a loud cough. "So, are you planning to do any introductions, here?"

"Oh, right… Everyone, this is Billie. She's one of the most high-ranked grim reapers. Billie, you probably already know us all, but, for courtesy's sake: this is Bobby, my knight in worn-out denim; his boys, Dean and Sam –" ("the Winchesters", Billie acknowledged), "– Castiel, my brother from another father; my father – you've met before, right?"

"Briefly", Billie nodded. "Your family is handful", she said to Anthony.

"Most families are", said the snake.

Fergus went on. "Then we've Aziraphale, Guardian of the Easter Gate and my step-daddy; his brother, Gabriel the asshole –"

"Says the king of assholes", Gabriel muttered, and Fergus smirked at him maliciously; he clearly hadn't yet forgiven the anguish the archangel had caused to Castiel by playing dead for so long.

"- and last and maybe least, John Constantine, also an asshole."

John snorted. "I've been called worse."

"Then there's, of course, my lovely puppies, but I think that reintroducing you to Growley and Juliet would be rather waste of time."

"They are hard to forget", Billie noted. While none of the humans in the room could actually see the hounds, it was clear to everybody that the reaper had to keep pushing overly friendly Juliet off of her to prevent her face to be slobbered. "But enough with this dilly-dally; what do you want, Crowley?"

In turn, Fergus asked, "What do you think of the current situation at Heaven?"

Billie looked sharply at him. "I won't take sides", she said. "Even for your sake."

"I wasn't asking you to. Just – what do you think?"

Billie was quiet for a moment before saying, "It's – not ideal, but doesn't effect to my job, so –" She shrugged.

"Still you wouldn't be against it if things would – ease up a bit?"

Billie frowned. "Crowley. Either you start talking clearly and tell me right now what you want from me, or I'm out of here."

"Fine, fine! Look, I know that the Death won't pick sides between Heaven and Hell, but this is more like angels' own quarrel than anything else.  _I'm_  only invested in this because Az and Feathers –"

Billie looked highly doubtful. "Reeeeeally?"

"– Well, mostly because of them. But it's not like I'm going to gain any upper-hand over Heaven with this – because, as you can see, I'm just a mortal, now – and so I don't think that you doing just a one, little,  _insignificant_  favor to an old friend should anyway break against your vow to stay neutral."

Billie smirked dryly. "Last time you asked a  _little_  favor from a reaper you ended up releasing leviathans in the world."

"It wasn't –"

"That was me, actually", Castiel said, looking at his feet with anguished look upon his face. Dean quickly put an arm around his waist and pulled the angel close to him, glaring draggers at Billie to warn her to say nothing more about it.

Fergus waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes; that was like eons ago. But this time it honestly is just a little thing."

"And what is it, then?"

This time it was Sam who answered to her, "We need to contact a soul in Heaven."

Billie quickly glanced at him and then back to Fergus. "Why would you need my help for that? There's spells for that specific matter…"

"And if I know about them, it's certain that Metatron is aware of them, too. The Heaven is under completely lock-down; he wouldn't have left any back-doors there for any angel whose ever opened even a one book to found."

"I see", Billie replied. "But you seem to be surprisingly sure that he wouldn't be prepared for my intrusion…"

Fergus smirked. "Well, everybody knows that reapers have no favorites."

"Except you, I suppose."

The ex-demon shrugged. "Well, I can't be held in responsible of being irresistible!"

At that point, Bobby sent a warning glare towards his partner. "Fergus…"

Fergus smiled back at him almost sheepishly. "Too much flirt, I suppose?"

"Maybe little."

"I'll try to hold it back, then – for you, darling."

"You better."

Billie followed their short conversation and smirked fondly at Fergus. "Has someone actually managed to make an honest man out of you?"

"Or me of him – though the work may still be little bit in process. So I think that's the end of the last part of our friend-with-benefits relationship…"

Billie hummed. "What a shame. You sure he wouldn't care to try a threesome?"

Bobby's face were colored by very bright shade of red, and he spluttered a bit unable to get clear words out of his throat.

"Hum… It might be little too early for that, I'm afraid."

"A pity." Billie looked him in the eyes. "Is that honestly all you need? One call to upstairs?"

"That's all I ask from you", Fergus confirmed.

Billie hummed. She let her eyes wander over all other occupants in the room. Finally, she sighed and then grinned, "Which soul?"

* * *

**Little later, back in Heaven…**

Ash took a sip from his beer and sank deeper in his sofa. It was just another day with no news about what was happening in the world outside his little personal Heaven. His pirate-angel-radio – the apparatus he'd put together to catch telepathic messages angels sent to each other's – was blinking its lights slowly, but there was no-one on air. There never was, nowadays.

The life/afterlife in Heaven had gotten unbelievable boring after new boss had walked in the office and kicked everyone else out. The communication between tenants – now more like inmates – had first become complicated and later almost impossible. In theory Ash could still visit other Heaven's if he really wanted to – he'd done so few times – but it was risky business. The new boss – this Metatron – had made clear that he had little to no sense of humor or patience towards those he saw as "troublemakers". Earlier angels were ready to look souls' whereabouts thru their fingers as long as they weren't bothered, but this new guy had none of that.

"Nasty bugger", Ash muttered. How long had it been since he'd last seen Pamela, again…?

He raised the can on his lips to take another sip but found it empty. Grumbling, Ash rose up to his feet to go and fetch another, when he was suddenly interrupted by another person appearing in front of him. No, correction: various persons. One of them – the chick – he didn't recognize, but two others were almost too familiar.

"Guh, this feels weird", Dean Winchester said.

Sam noticed Ash staring at them and waved his hand bit awkwardly. "Hi, Ash!"

Ash waved weakly back. "Hi… No, scratch that – what are you two doing here? Did you manage to get yourself killed AGAIN?"

"No, man", Dean said. "Still not pushing daisies yet. This is simply E.T.'s home call via Grim Reaper.

Now that Ash looked closer, the Winchesters did seem little transparent, like ghosts used to back in Ash's days as a hunter. "The what?"

"Later", Sam promised. He turned towards the chick, only one of the new-comers who didn't look see-through. "How much time we have?" he asked.

The chick – who probably was a Reaper, then – shrugged. "As much as you like, dear – though I would try to be prompt. It's not carved in stone that Metatron won't notice our presence and come to investigate if we linger too long."

"Okay." Sam turned again to look at Ash. "You better sit back down, then. I'll explain what we're trying to do…"

* * *

**Again a little later, still in Heaven, in Metatron's office…**

"You see, Gadreel", Metatron said in what felt like thousandth time, "out of all of us, I was the closest one to our Father. Oh, I can see what you're thinking about-! 'If you were so close, then why didn't He name you as His successor?' I am right, aren't I? That's what you were thinking, huh?"

Gadreel almost sighed. "Ye-"

"Ah, but you see", Metatron continued, "Father knew that I wasn't interested of power! Just peace and harmony… some books to read… that's all I wanted! I was perfectly content to just live my life in recluse – until it finally came to me just how far Heaven had fell from our days of glory…"

_If he soon won't shut up, I might just throw myself back on earth, all by my own this time_ , Gadreel thought.

Luckily he never had to go that far, since right then one of the alarms in Metatron's office went on.

The Scriber frowned and hurriedly pressed few panels in his security system. "The souls are restless", he muttered to himself. "What are they doing-?"

Even while the other angel spared not a glance at him, Gadreel made his best to look as surprised as Metatron was. Inside, he was feeling hundreds of butterflies fluttering in his stomach. The game was on…

...

"… _Past few days we've made a lot searching in Islington's library", Samuel said. "Meaning, Bobby, Az and I have; others have had their own ways the help."_

" _Like taking the hounds on walk and playing fetch with them", Dean muttered._

" _And Fergus have taught me to bake pies", Castiel added proudly._

" _Nice", Gadreel said to his brother before looking at the younger hunter with doubting eyes. "And?"_

" _Aziraphale deducted that since Islington was the one who contacted Metatron in the first place, it should be more than plausible that he was well aware of what spell the Scriber was going to use – if he didn't even hand it out to him altogether. So we tried looking, and eventually found it. And even better: we've also found a way to undo it."_

_Gadreel felt soft fluttering in his chest but the feeling soon died away. "And so what, then?" he said. "What good is it for me? There's no way back for me, anyway – not without my Grace."_

_For some reason, Castiel let out a little gasp and Dean glared Gadreel vehemently before laying his hand on angel's shoulder and squeezing it softly. There must have been something behind it, something more than just sympathy towards his brother that made Castiel react so, but it was clear that no-one was planning to clear this up for him._

" _Actually, I'm getting to that", Sam promised. "It seems that the spell Metatron casted didn't use all your Grace right away – only a minor part of it, precisely. The rest of it – as well as remains of the Nephilim's blood and ash from the Bow of Cupid – still exist, because they're needed to stabilize it. Let me try to explain; the spell Metatron lifted over the Heaven is – it's little like a tent, and as such, it needs something to hold it up. So Metatron put the rest of the components in three different flasks, each on their own, and buried them in three different places – in different realms."_

_This time Gadreel couldn't help but feel some of his hope to awake. "Where?" he whispered. "Where is my Grace?"_

_Now Samuel looked back at him regretfully. "We don't know", he said. "From what we read, we could only work out that Metatron had to hid one flask in each Earth, Hell and Purgatory", he told, "but we've no idea in which of them is your Grace, or where exactly it lays buried." And then looked Gadreel solemnly and added, "But you know who does."_

_Gadreel almost growled. "Metatron…"_

" _You still have hope, brother", Castiel said, and did he only imagine it or did the younger angel's voice really tremble a bit as he said so?_

_Samuel continued. "Now, there's two ways to undo the spell. First one is to find all three component and either destroy them or – in the case of your Grace – release it back to its original form."_

" _Yet you established that that would be impossible."_

" _Exactly, and that brings us to another solution: The counter spell. Now, there are some pros and cons. The good thing is that we've already collected the components – it's was rather easy task, actually: essence of a demon – Bela, the current queen of Hell, sent us one of the last loyalists of late ruler, Abaddon; one of the Hands of God – Fergus actually had various of these, he's a bit of collector – so now we have the Rod of Aaron; and then there's", Samuel sighed and looked at Castiel, who stared straight forward, stiff and unmoving, "a wing of an angel."_

_Gadreel whirled his head around to stare at his brother. "Your wing…? Castiel, you – how could you…?!"_

_And Castiel looked at him with sorrowful blue eyes and said, "It's not like I'll be able to fly a for a long, anyway." And, "I've traded away my Grace, Gadreel: before soon, the new owner will come and collect."_

_Gadreel could hardly comprehend what he was hearing. "Why would you…?"_

_Castiel lowered his eyes to his hands, which he'd been wringing around nervously. "I've caused much pain, brother; even while my intentions might been good, my actions seem to always carry a bad seed with them. I released the Leviathans; I broke the Heaven apart; I've… I've shed the blood of my kindred…", he exhaled weakly, "I know it's useless to beg forgiveness; because no matter how many times I've granted my salvation, no matter how often those who care about me – those who_ love me _– keep telling me that I'm not the only one in fault, deep in my heart, I won't ever be able to completely forgive to myself." Castiel lifted his gaze to meet Gadreel's eyes. "I won't deserve to be angel, brother. I'll do whatever I can to restore Heaven and return the balance between all realms – but earth is now my home. I'll become a human."_

_Dean was now sitting side-to-side with Castiel, one arm tightly around the stiff shoulders. "Gabriel offered to give up his own wing, instead", he told, "so did Az – told us he hardly uses then anyway… Even Anthony – the snake – even he was ready to do so; of course, the spell wouldn't have accepted it, but it's the thought that counts, I believe… But Cass refused to listen any of it." The way he said it made clear that the argument about this had been long and loud._

" _A human has no need for wings", Castiel said simply._

_Gadreel shook his head. "I don't understand you. None of you, really, but… Castiel… Do you think that you know what living without Grace feels like? Because you don't. No-one does – not if they hadn't experienced it."_

_Castiel nodded. "I know. I've… I almost lost it, once. My Faith was fading, and it ate up my Grace… Later my powers were restored, but I do remember how it felt – to be powerless, useless – insignificant…"_

" _You know all that, and still…?"_

_Suddenly, Castiel smiled at him; it wasn't a happy smile, not really, but neither was it unhappy one. "After that, I've learned a lot – of how arrogant I used to be, and just how much effect one man's actions can do. Humans_ aren't _insignificant, Gadreel – they have more strenght than we can hardly imagine. Strenght to do evil, with no doubt – but also, an immense strenght to do good. They can chose what they'll be, they can adapt and change their beliefs and habits, even their whole style of life – something that we never bothered to even think of. Maybe that was our greatest sin…"_

_Gadreel wasn't sure if he understood what Castiel was trying to express – in his eyes, humans still appeared as lot of barbarians who acted according their instincts and would manage far better had Heaven taken more strict command over them from the beginning – but he'd lost his spirit to argue. Let poor Castiel believe what he wanted; that belief was very much all he'd left._

"… _Continue, Samuel."_

_The hunter exhaled deeply. "The hardest part of our plan is that the spell has to be activated_ in _Heaven."_

_Gadreel stared at him. "But no-one gets in! That's exactly the problem you've been trying to solve!"_

_Samuel licked his lips. "I know. We – were kind of hoping to that you might be able to convince Metatron to let you in. As, well – he must think you wouldn't have much to lose."_

_It took a moment before that sank in. "_ That's _why you wanted me in this? In some crazy expectation that somehow I could just – slither my way in Heaven and start spouting spells right under Metatron's nose? I would be dead before the first paragraph!" Gadreel raged. "And in any case, I just have to point out: if –_ if _– Metatron could be persuaded to let me in… Now that I know all that, what makes you believe that I would help you? Why wouldn't I just go to Metatron and pledge my loyalty to him in hopes that he returns what was taken from me?"_

" _Maybe because you still have some decency and don't want to come out as an ungrateful ass?" Dean said hotly._

" _It's not like you've done any huge favours to me. Besides, even if you know how to get past the spell, what changes do you think you've against Metatron? He has all the resources of Heaven in his disposal! If he wants so, he can block everyone else from harvesting the power from the souls. He could even suck all that power to himself and wipe as all out of the face of earth if he willed so!"_

" _Then why hasn't he yet?" Samuel asked._

_Gadreel blinked. "What?"_

" _If he's so powerful, why hasn't he made his move, yet? Why are we still here, plotting against him? If he truly has all that power, should he be very much omnipotent right now?"_

" _I – I don't know –"_

" _Well, I think that he doesn't have all that power, not yet at lest. Maybe there's something more he needs to harvest it; or maybe it's like what happened with Cass when he took swallowed all the souls from Purgatory – it almost destroyed him, to keep that much power in. Maybe Metatron thinks same could happen to him."_

" _There's a lot of 'maybes' in your speech", Gadreel noted dryly._

" _I'm aware", Samuel agreed, "but from one reason or another, it's clear that Metatron isn't as powerful as we all feared he would be, and in my eyes, that gives us enough leverage to take a risk."_

_Not to mention that he would still have those souls under his command, and even if your hunch is right and he's just been hesitant to take a full advantage of them yet, that would give him enough reason to finally take the last step."_

" _That's why we'll first prevent him from taking that step", Samuel said. "The spell Metatron used is surprisingly adaptive – I'm not sure if he was aware of that or if he was counting on it, but the gist of it its that the spells target area can be modified even after it's casting – as long as the new coordinates fit inside the earlier ones. So, if someone whose adept enough in enochian would give the spell new coordinates – let's say, determine it cover only a certain parts of Heaven – that could effectively block the personal Heaven's out of Metatron's reach."_

_Gadreel snorted. "Like who? There's no-one but Metatron in Heaven."_

_Samuel smirked. "Oh, no. There are others. Quite a few in number, actually." As Gadreel frowned, he added, "The souls, Gadreel – that huge mass of souls you guys use as a battery. And some of those are our friends."_

" _Be as might, how are you planning to contact these of yours? Even mediums can't reach Heaven currently."_

" _Fergus said that he knows a way for that", Castiel assured._

_Gadreel didn't manage to hold down a snort. "And you would put your trust on ex-demon? One whose the son of the first tempter?"_

_Castiel frowned, but didn't take a bite. "Fergus reminded us that even while Heaven is locked down, the human souls still have an access there. And who are the ones who lead them in? The reapers. And Fergus had proved us earlier that he has… acquaintances in their mist. They don't want to get mixed in the quarrels between Hell and Heaven, but since this isn't a one we might get little help from them."_

_Gadreel gave it a thought. "Wouldn't blocking out all personal Heaven's also render all other angel's just as useless as Metatron?_

" _Only for a moment, until you undo the original spell. Once Gabriel and the others are in, they should be able to go toe-to-toe against Metatron, who by then wouldn't anymore be the sole powerhouse in Heaven."_

_It almost sounded like it could work. In other words, it sounded way too convenient, and Gadreel didn't hesitate to say it out of loud. "Doesn't anyone else think that the way that spell should work sound too convenient to be true? It's almost like someone was asking you to try and break it."_

_The others shared a look and then they just… shrugged. "That came into my mind, too", Samuel agreed. "It really feels like a trap, doesn't it? But eventually, it makes a lot more sense once you realize what the creator of both spells was trying to establish while working on them: something to either break or at least change the borders of his isolation. It's obvious that he didn't succeed, but -"_

" _Yes, Islington… Why should we trust in anything he created?"_

" _Well, the spell Metatron used worked just right, didn't?" Dean commented._

" _Do I have to remind you whose life you're putting on the line, here?"_

" _Like we others wouldn't in your case, huh?" Dean demanded. "Like Castiel isn't ready to give his all to this?!"_

" _Let it be, Dean", Castiel said quietly._

" _This is madness", Gadreel muttered. "And returning to my earlier question: what is it that I could gain by allying myself with you instead of not joining to Metatron's side? Because, the things haven't really changed that much: even if I get my Grace back, once you open up Heaven, the other angels are just going to threw me back to my cell anyway."_

" _Gabriel wouldn't let them", Castiel insisted._

" _And that's the other thing: You're planning to give the highest position to Gabriel? Seriously? I understand that as a last archangel whose both alive and not in the Cage he's the obvious choice, but just how trustful you think that he is? He was playing a pagan for millenniums, crying out loud! Who ensures that he won't just get feed up again and scram and leave us once again without the leader?"_

" _Well, that's kind of what you're for", Dean said with a shrug._

_Gadreel looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean?"_

_Samuel smiled. "We were hoping that maybe you would agreed to be his co-ruler…"_

_..._

He'd laughed, then. And even after various other explanations, he still had his doubts about this all. The plan was to convenient; it shouldn't work. It couldn't.

But now, when he watched Metatron jump up and rushing out of the office's door, Gadreel completely forgotten, while all his monitors were showing just empty, white screen and all alarms were on, he couldn't help but think… what if?

Gadreel stood up from his chair and walked to Metatron's desk. He only had to open one drawer to found what he was looking for – Metatron's angel blade was gleaming there, looking almost innocent. How easy it would be to sank it down now powerless Metatron's chest; how satisfying would it be to leave the other angels stranded on the earth, now powerless and unable to do any harm, while he stood in Heaven and watched…

Gadreel picked the blade up. His other hand went to his pocket, fingers curling around the little glass-bottle that held the spell – demon's essence and ashes from the Rod of Aaron and and one angel's ( _Castiel's_ ) wing – and pondered…

_Which one should I use?_

* * *

**Same time on earth …**

"What's taking so long?!" Dean growled.

"Be patient", Az chastised him. "We have to trust in Gadreel." Though he said so, the angel too did look little worried; he and his brothers had all lost their powers some moments ago, indicating that Ash at least had succeed in his part of the plan. The rest lay on Gadreel's shoulders…

"I just hope he didn't get any second thoughts and decided to stab us all in the back", Dean muttered. Castiel took his hand and held it firmly.

The seconds went on in tense silence.

Then:

Castiel exhaled and squeezed Dean's hand; at the same time, Az sat up straighter and Gabriel, who had been laying on sofa his head on John's lap blinked his eyes open. "Oh."

"What is it?" Dean urged.

"Nothing, I just – I got my powers back", Castiel answered.

"Does that mean that the gates of Heaven are open?" Sam queried.

"Only one way to find out", said Gabriel. He'd stood up and now started to write sigil in the air, while muttering a quiet incantation. For a moment, there was a soft white glow, and in the next, the archangel was gone.

"It works", Castiel breathed.

"Quickly then, dear", Az urged him while hurriedly drawing his own sigil. "We want to be done with this before other angels realize that the gates are once more open."

Castiel nodded, and after one more reassuring smile to his friends he followed the lead.

Then all the angels were gone.

* * *

**Back in Heaven…**

Castiel was the last one to arrive into Metatron's office. His brothers were already there, Az, Gabriel and Gadreel standing around the chair and glowering down on the only occupant of the room who was sitting, tied on the chair by his wrists and ankles – Metatron himself.

The Scriber was glaring right back at them. "So", he said, voice full of disdain, "you finally got here. Now what are you planning to do? Kill me?"

"Do not tempt me", Gadreel hissed, and Metatron laughed dryly.

"Temp? Isn't that ironic choice of word to you… the one who let the snake slither its way in the Garden to temp Eve?"

Gadreel growled and the one of his hands that was holding the angel blade rose threateningly. Quickly Castiel stepped on his side to stop the movement.

"Don't", he said quietly, "he's not worth of it."

Metatron scoffed. "Like you have any room to criticize me! Think of everything you've done –"

"Gadreel, I think that our dear brother here would do just well without that oily tongue of his", Gabriel said leisurely.

The sound that left from the Scriber's lips resembled a hellhound's growl. "Shut up!" he shouted. "Shut up, you – you spineless waste of space! You think that after all this time you can just worm your way back to Heaven and be welcomed with open arms as a new leader? Hah! Where were you when things went bad and then even worse? On vacation, playing all those little tricks of yours, giving rat's ass to all of us…"

Gabriel did give no expression if Metatron's words were affecting on him or not. "Have you let out enough steam already, old champ?"

"How dare you-!"

"Let's calm down, all of us", Aziraphale tried, but only managed to turn Metatron's attention towards himself.

"And you!" the Scriber thundered. "Don't think that I've forgotten you! You who turned your back to Heaven in your seek of mundane pleasures of humanity and your sacrilegious lust towards the Snake! You who were offered the honor to became of His archangels –"

Az faced his spiteful words without reaction. "We aren't here because of me, brother."

Metatron's eyes were bulking from his head. "You self-righteous cur!" he spat out. "What right do you have to stand here, taller than your head, and try to judge me?!"

"That's not my intention", the bookworm said calmly. "I'm only here to speak with you."

Metatron laughed. "Speak! … You think you can turn me into one of your spineless cronies, like you did with Castiel? You plan to  _safe my soul_ , eh? Well, good luck with that! Because I know that what I did was for the best for all of us!"

"By whose standards – Islington's or yours?" Az asked.

Castiel noted that Metatron's presumptuous expression slipped just a bit on account of Aziraphale's question, but he recovered quickly. "You know nothing of it", he said.

"I think I know more than you believe", Az countered, "because I've talked with him. Anthony, Gabriel and I fought against him and his henchman and managed to trap him again."

"For good this time, I hope", Gabriel said and yawned. "Even thinking of him bores me out of my mind."

Gadreel rolled his eyes but didn't comment it otherwise.

Aziraphale and Metatron paid them no attention; they were staring at each other's eye to eye, and to Castiel it looked like they were fighting over the control of the situation.

"I didn't come here to fight you", Az said, calmly and quietly, "nor did I come to judge you. I came here, because I think that all of us have something to offer for the sake of Heaven – be it authority, or knowledge, or sense of justice. I'm here", he continued, and all others went suddenly very stiff due the foreboding, "to ask you to share the reign of Heaven with Gabriel and Gadreel."

Silence. Then, "WHAAAT?!"

"Not only with Gadreel, but you want me to fraternize with this greasy worm, too?!"

"Are you out of your mind!? After all he did, you want us to share power with him? He belongs to jail! Or even better, to be executed!"

"Brother, his deeds  _do_  speak against him."

And above all that, there was Metatron laughing wheezily.

Yet Aziraphale didn't care about any of them. "Back in the day", he said solemnly, "Heaven prospered not only because our Father was here, but because there were four archangels to share their duties. And it wasn't only about power, but more because they were four different individuals who wouldn't let only one point-of-view to rule above everyone else. Michael was the loyal one with strongest sense of duty; Raphael was the serious one with most of knowledge; Gabriel was – and still is – the playful one with more heart than any of the others; and", Az sighed, "Lucifer always was the protective one with the strongest sense of justice."

By now, the others had slowly quietened down as the sudden solemnity of Aziraphale's voice enthralled them.

"Because of the differences in their characters, they could ease down each other's strong personal opinions, and created regime that was both strong  _and_  fair. And that's why, when it first broke, things started to quickly go downhill." Aziraphale looked at Gadreel. "What happened to you, brother, wouldn't never been possible had Lucifer not rebelled nor been banished; because, while he certainly had his faults – his pride not being least of them – he would never had allowed such an unfairly hard punishment to be bestowed upon you. And even after that, had Gabriel not left, he'd probably managed to lighten said punishment by reminding others that no-one should be so harshly punished simply because they want to believe in a good neighbor."

Gadreel's mouth was thin, trembling line, and Gabriel even had some decency to look chastised.

"And if there's one thing Metatron is right about, it's this: we really have no stand to judge him, for we've all erred just much – if not more – than he has. I, too, have some deeds on my conscious", Aziraphale confessed. "People I could have helped, but didn't; things I've said that should have been left unsaid." He closed his eyes for a moment. "And yet, we all are here because we've wanted to do well, with our insufficient skills to do so. Because deep in our hearts, we all want what is best for us all."

"And only you could have expressed it that well!"

All angel's whipped their heads around to stare at the two figures that were standing on the doorway; one of them was a young man with golden blond hair; the other was a short man with a beard and messy hair, who Castiel instantly recognized.

"Chuck Shurley?" he asked weakly, but was blocked by Aziraphale and Gabriel who both shouted, "Adam?!" at the very same time.

Chuck smiled sheepishly. "Uh, right… We were just – passing by, me and –"

The younger man – Adam, as he had been called, and did that mean that he actually was…? – rolled his eyes and said, "Just get on with it, old man; we've already come this far, you aren't going to have a cold feet now, are you?"

"Little respect, Adam", Chuck asked with long-suffering voice. Then he looked back at them, looking more than reluctant. "I'm aware that all – well, most of you", he corrected and gave a weak smile to Aziraphale who answered to it with much more encouraging one, "– will have thing or two to against me after this, but – well, let's be done with it." And wonderful, bright white light filled the room as well as their hearts; Castiel felt his whole essence starting to carol, and he realized who it was standing in front of him.

"Father", he whispered, his voice and eyes and heart full of longing.

God exhaled, his eyes growing misty and regretful as they met Castiel's, and he said, "Yes… yes, I am." And then, "Oh, Castiel, I am so sorry."

And Castiel remembered all those time he'd called his Father to help, asked for wisdom and guidance but been left empty handed.  _Why_ , he thought, knowing well that the other understood without he having to use words,  _why, if you were all this time this close, why didn't you ever answer to me?_

And he felt his Father to answer,  _partly because I wanted to see you to finding your own way; and partly because I was too ashamed to come._

It wasn't the answer he wanted to hear, but it was the honest one. Judging by how silent the room was Castiel guessed that others were having similar privet conversations at the same time.

_I lost my way countless of times_ , he reminded.

_But what matters is that the one you finally came up with is all your own making._  He could felt his Father's power to touch him, feeling like a soft caress over his brown.  _Oh, Castiel; I've failed in some many ways, both as a father and a brother! Yes, you heard that right: because long time ago, I had a sister. She's my counterpart, the darkness for my light. Where I created, she destroyed; and where I would have congealed everything in its place like it would have set on stone, she acted like a force of chaos that makes things grow and evolve. That is our dance, and it still continues – but after a long, long time, we started to want different things. I wanted to create something to stop our everlasting isolation, yet she – my sister, my dear Amara – she said she only me, us, eternally. Because,_  Castiel could feel Him hesitating,  _she knew that once there would be others, our karma would once again catch with us._

_And finally,_  God told,  _we were driven into a bitter dispute over our different viewpoints. I wanted to fulfill my means, even if it would bring me agony some day; but she didn't want to afford that. So we fought… and finally, I managed to capture her._

_The eons have passed since that time. I can still feel her, every second, banging against the borders of her isolation; her effect can still be felt in the worlds around us, but no longer can she directly act against any realms I created. Year after another I can feel how her desperation and anger towards me keeps growing, and it became more and more clear that I won't dare to release her from her prison, since she would destroy me; but while I won't wish to perish, what I fear most is the anguish I'll see in her eyes as she takes my life. Since I've seen it before, countless of times…_

_You, my children – you were born from my longing of family, like the one I shared with my sister; and like her, I ended up betraying you too. Lucifer was the dearest to me, partly because of how he reminded me of his aunt – but when he first time acted out of his free will, like a child who tries their limits and the borders of their parent's love, it was exactly that resemblance that made me go in to panic. I could see what happened to me and Amara happening to my children; and instead of trying to find a way to solve a problem I pushed it aside, banished Lucifer and locked him away, just like I did to his aunt. Not for eternity, mind you; just long enough for him to see the error in his ways. But how could he do so if I never even tried to explain myself? And the longer I waited, the more wrathful he came, and eventually I could no longer to see a way to patch our ways._

_So you abandoned him,_  Castiel accused.

_So I did._

_Then why us, too? Why did you leave?_

_How could I have stayed?_  His Father asked, begging for understanding.  _I'd completely failed one of my children, and hurt countless of others while doing so. Things could never have gone back as they were, and I became too scared to do anything in fear that I would cause even more harm. You were looking up on me asking guidance, yet I'd nothing to give, only empty words and promises of how things would be fine one day. And finally I met the point when I just couldn't keep going like that; I needed fresh air, a place where I could collect my thoughts… And so I left, crept out like a thief in the night._

Castiel looked at his Father, the most powerful being of all, and felt something he'd never thought he could feel towards him: disappointment. He knew it wasn't fair – of course God was allowed to feel as much self-doubts as anyone of them; it just didn't fit in the idolized picture of God he'd formed in his head.

God chuckled self-mockingly.  _I know; I understand that you were hoping someone great to be proud of, and all you got was a worn old coward._

_It's not fair_ , Castiel informed, though he wasn't completely sure what he was referring to.

_No, it isn't_ , his Father agreed.  _I don't know if it compensates anything, but I would say that you've done well, with or without me._

_I still wish you'd stayed. A flawed father would have been better than no father at all._

_Maybe so. But no we can never know._  Silence. _…Do you think you could one day forgive me?_

Castiel thought about it.  _Right now I'm not even sure of what I feel or what I should forgive you about. There will be anger, probably, and bitterness… But, given time… once I've collected my thoughts… I'm sure I'll come to understand you and choices you made a little better. And one day I'll be able to forgive._

Another caress.  _That's all I need, Castiel._  Then, "But for now, I must to go; for there's another child of mine who I need to ask forgiveness; a one who has waited that for longer than any other. And then", God took shuddering breath, "I have to find a way to make it up with my sister."

"You won't be alone in that, old man", Adam said, and Chuck smiled forlornly at him.

"Thank you, grandson." Then he looked at his sons. "Aziraphale was right in most of what he said, but there's one thing he missed; to replace four archangels you need four others. And that's why he also should share your burden."

Aziraphale's face went ashen. "But, Father – my shop, my life on earth – my Anthony – I cannot -"

God raised his hand reassuringly. "Do not worry about it, Aziraphale. The earth is still the realm you will – and should – first and foremost call your home: because you're the angel who speaks for it, and for humans." He looked at Castiel. "In other situation, I might have given that position for you; but there are beings of whom toes even  _I_  am hesitant to step on." His eyes were full of sympathy.

Castiel nodded. "I know; and I'm ready life my life – no matter how short it might be – as a human, as long as I can share it with those I call my friends and family."

God smiled. "I hope you'll become happy", He said softly.

Castiel met His eyes with certainty. "I will", he promised.

God nodded. "Good. And now, my children", he said, "I took liberty to inform your brethren about this change of regime; they have now all came and are waiting for you at the central square." As they stared at Him stunnedly, He chuckled and added, "Do not keep them waiting too long."

Then He and Adam were gone.

Castiel looked at the four other angels; at some point, without him noticing, Metatron's ties had been unbound, and he was now standing too, rubbing his wrists absentmindedly. The youngest angel reckoned that he would never know what the other's had talk about with their Father, and neither was eager to share his own conversation. His thought were still puzzling inside his head like a smarm of bees.

Only one thought was clear…

"Aziraphale", he said, almost pleadingly, "if it's okay with you all… I would really like to go home now."

* * *

Castiel appeared into the room he shared with Dean. The hunter was laying on his bed, full clothed but in sleep. The angel stood there moment, just watching him, thinking back of how long he'd already been doing that; when did he first time realize how much Dean meant to him, not as a Righteous man but as himself…?

Dean sifted in his sleep and slowly blinked his eyes open. When the hunter noticed Castiel, a soft smile quirked the corners of his lips upwards. "Cass", he said. "Welcome back."

And Castiel lay down beside him and buried himself in the welcoming embrace. "I'm home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to made some major edits in this chapter right before publishing it, and I was too tired to proveread it any longer (its 6 am. here, and I haven even went to bed yet...), so if there's some gaping inaccuracies or repeating in there then please feel free to notify me of them!


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